All Things Precious
by AJ Rayne
Summary: Post-ATY. Vaughn survives Taipei, but suffers from amnesia. Sydney helps him recover, and lives the life she's always dreamed of...only to have it turn into a nightmare of epic proportions.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: I realize that the traditional way of writing a story involves writing the prologue first...or at least putting the chapters up in order, but I've always been a bit scatterbrained. Sorry about adding this part so late into the tale...but I hope you like it all the same.  
  
~Rayne  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Prologue  
  
Special Agent Sara Weiss, FBI shoved her hands in her coat pocket and tried not to look at her watch one more time. She'd gotten a note from her father at work that morning, asking her to meet him at the docks. It was a strange meeting place, but she'd been intrigued and went without protest. She leaned against the railing, listening to the water slap against the concrete wall below her. Her father was rarely the type to arrive late, and she started to worry, imagining all sorts of disasters befalling him. She moved to take her cell phone out, but a pair of footsteps coming in her direction stilled her hand...then redirected it to the handle of her gun.  
  
The footsteps were light and quick, completely different from her father's heavy tread. Holding the gun loosely in one hand, she turned toward the sound, eyes narrowed as she saw the silhouetted figure of a slender woman coming towards her. She walked in the shadows and Sara could not make out her face. Something felt strange to her, and that was enough reason to raise her weapon.  
  
"Who's out there?" she called out. "I'm an FBI agent and I will shoot if you do not identify yourself."  
  
The woman held her hands up. "I'm unarmed," she said. "Please put your gun down, Agent Weiss."  
  
Not sure whether or not she should be surprised her name was known, Sara relaxed her finger but did not put the gun down. Then, her worry for her father made her tense up, her worst fears coming to the surface in the face of this unknown woman.  
  
"Who are you?" she demanded. "Where's my father?"  
  
"Your father is fine," the woman said, her voice calm. "I had him send you that note because I wanted to speak to you."  
  
Sara's disbelief was palpable and the woman sighed.  
  
"It was in his handwriting, am I right? He even called you later that day to remind you to come. I'm not lying and I'm not holding your father hostage. Call him, if you like."  
  
Still holding her gun with one hand, Sara took her cell phone out and called her father.  
  
"What's the matter, Sara?" his voice said, like music to her ears.  
  
"Nothing, Dad. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."  
  
"I'm okay. Are you?"  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
Her father sighed, its heavy sound identical to the one the woman made only moments before. "Let her speak. She's got a lot to tell you. Come over when you're done. I love you, Kid."  
  
"Love you too, Dad."  
  
She pocketed her phone and lowered her gun--but didn't put it away. She studied the older woman who had now stepped into the light. Her auburn hair, liberally streaked with gray, was cut into a short bob, and her chocolate brown eyes were kind as she met Sara's gaze unwaveringly. There was something familiar about her, but Sara couldn't figure out why.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked again.  
  
"My name is..." the woman visibly hesitated and she took a shaky breath. "My name is Sydney."  
  
"How do you know my dad? How do you know me?"  
  
Sydney smiled, but it was sad. She put a hand on the railing and looked out into the black ocean, the reflection of the moon dancing on the surface of the waves.  
  
"I have a lot of things that I want to say to you, Sara," she said slowly. "But I'm afraid that you might not want to hear any of it."  
  
Sara couldn't seem to stop asking questions. "Then why are you here?"  
  
"Because I wanted to meet you and I know for a fact that sometimes, even though it hurts, you need to know the truth about yourself. Before I start talking, I do want to give you the choice of turning around and leaving me here. It'll hurt, Sara, but at the same time...it's all a part of who you are."  
  
She didn't know why, but tears prickled Sara's eyes. Maybe it was Sydney's voice or maybe it was because her words struck a cord in her. Happy though her life was, Sara had always felt something was wrong. It wasn't because she was raised by just her father, she loved him and would do anything for him, but there was just something...  
  
"Tell me," she said."  
  
Sydney turned and faced her. She reached out a shaking hand and caressed Sara's cheek with gentle fingers.  
  
"I'm your mother, Sara."  
  
Then, she started to tell her story and Sara slid to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as she listened. 


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I wish they were mine, but they're not. Don't sue me!  
  
Chapter One  
  
The hospital room was as sterile as every other hospital room Sydney had ever been in. The walls were white, the sheets were white...everything else was gun metal gray. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, but her legs were beginning to protest her lack of movement. Pushing herself off the uncomfortable armchair, she made her way to the window where the sun was peeking over the horizon. Ribbons of orange and red unfurled in the sky and for a moment, Sydney let herself get lost in the beauty of it, her mind a perfect blank.  
  
Until she was brought crashing down to reality by the sound of the heart monitor's incessant beeping.  
  
She put a hand to her mouth to stop her lips from trembling as she turned around. Vaughn lay lifeless on the bed, various wires and tubes springing from his body. A white bandage was taped to his forehead and Sydney knew there was a matching bandage on his shoulder where a bullet had ripped through his flesh and nearly made him bleed to death.  
  
At least, she thought, at least he's alive on that hospital bed instead of six feet under.  
  
It had only been three days before that Sydney was released by her mother. Her cover had not been blown and she had given nothing away. Her mother wasn't as evil and heartless as Sydney thought---her interrogation wasn't as harrowing as Will's had been. She still had all her teeth. After three days of obstinate silence, she had been let go into her father's custody. The frozen silence between her parents was physically painful for Sydney, but the look on her father's face broke her heart. In his stony facade, she could see how hurt he had been at her mother's betrayal, how he had really loved her only to have that thrown back in his face, and to find that his personal life and professional life had blurred to the point where he couldn't differentiate anymore.  
  
In that moment, Sydney hated her mother for what she had done to her father. Jack Bristow had been a hard man to live with and even now did not have the kind of relationship with his daughter that most father's had, but Sydney understood now why he had pushed her away. Neither of them said a word on the way back to SD-6 headquarters, but the bone-crushing hug that Jack gave her spoke volumes. Gruffly, he told her Will was in CIA custody and was fine. Sydney wanted to ask about Vaughn but couldn't until after she briefed Sloane.  
  
When she went home that night, she found her father waiting and he told her what had happened to Vaughn. He nearly drowned, but found an exit through the ventilation shaft only to be shot at in the dark alley outside the club. Ironically enough, he was shot by some common punk that Jack had disposed of quickly enough. With two bleeding men in the car, he drove to a CIA checkpoint and dropped them off. Sydney didn't have to ask him what he did afterwards. With a sob, she buried her face in her father's chest and felt his arms go around her. As she cried, he told her how worried he had been and how proud he was of her. She didn't know how long they had stood like that, but when he tears dried, he took her to Vaughn. No questions asked. He seemed to know that she needed to see her handler. They didn't want to talk about why. They would cross that bridge when they got to it.  
  
Sighing, Sydney went back to her seat at Vaughn's bedside. She had been nearly hysterical when she saw him like this, but after two days of being at his bedside, she was used to it. Without thinking, she took her hand in his, her thumb caressing the back of it. Where in the past they had tried not to touch each other unless absolutely necessary, in Sydney's case because she didn't want to give in to temptation, she now knew the exact dimensions of Vaughn's hand due to the hours she spent holding one then the other. She knew how they felt in hers, how warm, and masculine they were. He was a desk jockey, so she knew his calluses weren't due to the same activities she took part in. However, as she stared at his palms in the growing light, she guessed correctly that he got them from playing hockey.  
  
A watery smile curved Sydney's lips as she remembered asking him to a hockey game in one desperate, frantic moment, remembered the faintly pleased look on his face and how it took a visible effort for control for him to say that it wasn't possible.  
  
Her hand tightened on his.  
  
"Wake up, Vaughn," she whispered. "We need to go see a hockey game together. You owe me one."  
  
Resting her arms on the edge of his bed, she pillowed her head and closed her eyes. Soon, she was asleep.  
  
Above her head, a pair of green eyes opened, then looked quizzically down at her. 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
He looked around the room, brow furrowed as he wondered how he got there. Then, he looked down at the woman clutching at his hand, her silky brown hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. He wished he could see her face, and he racked his brain trying to figure out who she was. It was then did he realize he didn't know who he was. His entire body jerked at the knowledge, or rather, lack thereof, waking the woman at his arm.  
  
"Vaughn!" she shrieked, throwing her arms around him.  
  
He patted her back awkwardly as she alternated between crying and laughing. He could barely catch the words flying out of her mouth and what he did catch, he couldn't understand. Khasinau, the circumference, something about her Dad. The way she clutched at him and the familiar way with which she spoke told him that they had some sort of close relationship. Studying her face, he thought she was very beautiful, and wondered just how close that relationship was. She caught him looking at her, and she must have seen something strange on his face because she frowned.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked, pulling back.  
  
Then he said three words that made her sit back down...hard.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney gaped at him. "What?"  
  
A pink flushed infused his face. "I...I don't know who you are. I don't know who I am."  
  
"Oh, Vaughn," she said, her hand finding his.  
  
"Is that my name?"  
  
"Your name is Michael Vaughn and I'm Sydney Bristow. We...work together." She sighed again and reached for the alert button attached to the bed. "I think it's time to talk to your doctor."  
  
Two nurses and his doctor rushed into the room and began to fuss over Vaughn. Sydney stood by the window, her arms crossed, watching. Dr. Chan pulled out a pad of paper and began to make Vaughn write things down. He took the pen offered in his left hand and paused when he was asked to write his name down. Seeing this, the doctor quickly changed tactics. Vaughn was made to spell several words which he did without problem. Satisfied with what she'd seen, Dr. Chan then took a step back and caught Sydney's eye. She walked out of the room with Sydney at her heels as the two nurses fussed over their patient.  
  
"He looks good," Dr. Chan said. "He's lucid, fully aware of what's going on around him. He does have a severe case of amnesia. We won't know how extensive the damange is until we get him under a CAT scan. He knows how to write, and I'm more than certain he knows how to walk, but he doesn't remember how he learned these things. I'm hoping that it was due to emotional trauma that he became like this, which means he should be getting his memory back within the next six months. However, if its due to physical trauma....well, it could be a permanent thing."  
  
Sydney's jaw worked. "Can I talk to him about his past?"  
  
"A little at a time. Don't overwhelm him. I'm going to take him down to get a scan now. You should go home, take a shower, and get some sleep. You look exhausted. Tomorrow is another day."  
  
Sydney smiled wanly. "Thank you, Doctor."  
  
Chan nodded once and walked into the room to prep Vaughn just as Weiss flew through the swinging double doors. He saw Sydney standing in front of the door, her expression bleak, and immediately began to assume the worst. Grabbing her arms, he started to shake her as his questions came out in a stream.  
  
"What's wrong? What's happened? Is he alright? What did he say?"  
  
"Weiss, calm down," Sydney said, putting up a hand. "He's...he's awake."  
  
"Can I see him?"  
  
"He has amnesia."  
  
Weiss' arms dropped to his sides and he stared at her. "How serious is it?"  
  
Before she could answer, the door to Vaughn's room opened and he was wheeled out in a wheelchair by a nurse. He smiled up at Sydney, then looked at Weiss with a furrow in his brow. He took note of how close the other man was standing to Sydney and a spark appeared in his green eyes. Weiss saw it and was amused.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Vaughn," Sydney said.  
  
"Good night, Syd," he said as he was wheeled away.  
  
"He called me Syd," Sydney said, a note of excitement in her voice. "That's a good sign. He always calls me Syd."  
  
"You're finally going home?" Weiss asked.  
  
"Yeah. Doctor's orders. Will you stay here to talk to him?"  
  
"You bet. So what did Doctor Chan say about him?"  
  
Sydney recounted what was said about Vaughn's situation. Weiss sighed at the end of her monologue and he rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Devlin's not going to be happy about this," he said. "And we're going to have to tell his mother."  
  
"She doesn't know?"  
  
"She doesn't know a lot of things."  
  
Sydney threw him a suspicious look. "Like what?"  
  
"Like he's in the CIA."  
  
"What??" she exclaimed. "He's only a desk jockey for godsake! Why couldn't he tell her?"  
  
"After what happened with his dad...he didn't think she could take it," Weiss said with a shrug.  
  
"So what does she think he does?"  
  
"She thinks he's a lawyer for the FBI."  
  
"I didn't know he was a lawyer."  
  
"He's a regular renaissance man. Go home, Sydney," he said, patting her shoulder. "You need some rest."  
  
"Do I look that bad?"  
  
Weiss regarded his exhausted companion. He hadn't approved of Vaughn's relationship with her, but he had nothing personal against Sydney herself. She was a brave woman and he admired her.  
  
"Yes," he said with a small smile.  
  
"Thanks. Take care of him tonight, Weiss."  
  
"I will. Good night, Sydney."  
  
He watched her walk away and was more certain than ever that her professional relationship with Vaughn had to end. She had already put herself in danger by disappearing for two days and staying at his side. Their separation can start now since Vaughn was unable to do his job. Taking a seat on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs lining the corridors, Weiss took out his notepad and wrote out his letter to Devlin requesting a new handler for Sydney.  
  
* * * 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Geneviève Vaughn could not believe what she was hearing. She had been so proud of Michael, of his important position in the legal department of the FBI. Although, she had been worried at first that he might follow the same path as his father, because the last thing she imagined Michael to be was a lawyer, but he seemed to be content with his work.  
  
Now, she knew why.  
  
Bitterness twisted her lips, tightened her lovely face, as she stood outside the hospital room, listening to Michael's close friend at the CIA, Agent Weiss. The young man seemed truly contrite and looked as if he wanted to be any place but here. She could see how hard it was for him to break the news, but it was a testament to his closeness to her son that he did it anyway. He also explained Michael's situation and her fists clenched at her sides at the thought of her son in danger. She could remember the day the men came to her doorstep to tell her that her husband would not be coming home. When she saw the same kind of men standing on her doorstep just that day, she thought that she had somehow gone back in time, her mind not allowing her to even think that Michael was in danger. She thought she would faint when they told her that they had come about Michael.  
  
"How could he do this," she murmured, her French accent faint, but still present. "How could I have been so stupid as to not see?"  
  
"He only wanted to protect you, Mrs. Vaughn," Weiss said. "He didn't want you to worry."  
  
"I thought you said he was not a field officer," she said with a frown. "How is it possible that he has become injured?"  
  
"It was a special assignment," he answered smoothly, but he flinched when she glared at him. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you more than that."  
  
"So, you are telling me my son has amnesia, that he almost got himself killed in the line of duty, and you expect me not to want answers. Agent Weiss, I have lived without answers for far too long, and I have reached my limit."  
  
Weiss sighed and shook his head. "Mrs. Vaughn, I'm sorry. It's classified information."  
  
Piercing green eyes drilled into Weiss' skull. "Alright, Agent Weiss. May I at least see him?"  
  
"Yes, of course, but I must warn you, he won't remember you. He doesn't remember anything."  
  
"I will deal with that. I just want to see my son."  
  
Weiss opened the hospital door for her so she saw the visitor already there before he did.  
  
"Who are you?" Geneviève asked the young woman seated next to her son. Her eyes were suspicious as she saw the slender hand clutching Michael's tightly and the red rimmed eyes blinking fast.  
  
Sydney saw Weiss glare at her from behind the woman's back, but she ignored him. She knew the second Geneviève had walked through the door that she was Vaughn's mother. Her eyes were the same shade of green, and she even had the same dimple in her chin. Nervousness seized Sydney and she stared at her for a moment before standing up. She had only thought to visit Vaughn for a little while, but that little while stretched to two hours, and now she was caught. He had been asleep the whole time, having been sedated by the doctors, so she didn't think there would be any harm in it. From the look on Weiss' face, she thought wrong.  
  
"My name is..."  
  
"Mrs. Vaughn, this is Sydney Mason," Weiss interrupted. "She's a friend of Michael's."  
  
"Ms. Mason," Geneviève said tightly. "You are close to my son." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"You do not work with him?"  
  
"I do work with him," Sydney said, remembering that she told Vaughn they were coworkers.  
  
"I see."  
  
Seeing the stricken look on Geneviève's face, Sydney felt her heart constrict. "I'm sorry about all this."  
  
"It was not your fault," Geneviève said tiredly.  
  
"We'll leave you alone, Mrs. Vaughn," Weiss said, afraid of what Sydney would say next.  
  
"Yes," she said, taking the seat Sydney vacated. "That will be best, but I would like to speak to Ms. Mason later on."  
  
Sydney only nodded. Without a word, she walked past Weiss, but before the door closed, she heard Vaughn's mother whisper brokenly, "Mon petit fils. Mon pauvre Michel."  
  
Then, the door swung shut. Weiss sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair as he regarded Sydney. Tension crackled between them and she had to fight the need to take a step back away from him.  
  
"You can't keep coming around here," he admonished, not bothering to hide his annoyance.  
  
"I care about him too, Weiss," Sydney said, bristling at his tone and feeling her own temper snapping. He had been short with her for the last two days and at first she had chalked it up to stress, but she was stressed, too. "You can't just tell me to stay away."  
  
"Yes, I can," Weiss said, taking a piece of paper out of his suit pocket. "I'm your new handler."  
  
The blood drained from Sydney's face and she couldn't seem to find her voice.  
  
"Try not to get too excited," he muttered.  
  
"Pardon me if I don't throw a party," she threw back. "I'm surprised you would even take the job considering how you feel about me."  
  
"How would you know how I feel about you?"  
  
"I'm not an idiot. I can tell when someone doesn't like me and you sure as hell don't."  
  
He took a step towards her and they stood nose to nose in the corridor. Sydney refused to give him any ground, and she looked straight into his eyes.  
  
"Get this straight, Agent Bristow, I am going to do my job right," Weiss hissed. "Whether or not we have a good relationship is not relevant. This is not personal, got that?"  
  
"We're way past personal, Agent Weiss, but I'm going to do my job right as well. I'm also going to visit Vaughn whenever I want to, but I'll be sure to check with you first. Got that?"  
  
"You're putting him in danger by being here."  
  
Sydney had considered that, but her need to be with him distracted her from living her life as if nothing had happened. She took a step back from Weiss and relaxed her face even though she wanted to throttle him.  
  
"I just want to check up on him once and a while," she said, holding her hand out. "Can't I have that?"  
  
He sighed, seeing the desperate look in her eyes.. "Alright, Sydney, but not every day and you have to check with me first or else we'll have a repeat of today. You lay low."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Sydney didn't let him answer. She turned on her heel and left. Weiss stared at the closed hospital door for a few moments before going back in. Vaughn was up and he was chatting casually with his mother as if they were having lunch or something. She was telling him a story about his childhood, a childhood he couldn't remember, but what caught Weiss' attention was that they were speaking French.  
  
"It's strange that his language skills have not been affected," Geneviève said, looking at him.  
  
"The doctor says that it was mental trauma that wiped my memory clean," Vaughn said.  
  
"Agent Weiss told me. When will you be able to go home?"  
  
"In a couple days. Where's home?"  
  
"You live in a condo in the city, but I want to take you home with me," Geneviève said firmly. "I will take of you."  
  
She glanced at Weiss as if expecting him to protest, but he merely smiled.  
  
"Good. It is settled. We have much to discuss if we are to find your memory. Starting with Sydney Mason."  
  
Vaughn's forehead knotted, but before he could speak, Weiss jumped in.  
  
"Uh, yeah, Mike, Sydney was in here visiting you but you were out cold."  
  
There was no mistaking the disappointment on Vaughn's face. "Damn. I wanted to talk to her."  
  
"She is special to you?" his mother asked.  
  
"I think so," Vaughn answered after a brief hesitation.  
  
"Good. We will have her over for dinner."  
  
Weiss wondered if the Fates were playing a colossal joke on him. 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
Sydney got up from bed, her mouth fixed in a scowl. She had barely slept because she couldn't stop thinking about having Weiss as her handler. It would be difficult and she dreaded her first assignment from him. She only hoped they would start meeting some place else because being in the warehouse would only remind her of Vaughn and it would make things even harder.  
  
Her mood did not get better after she took a refreshing shower. She was just about to dry her hair when her cell phone rang. Bracing herself for an unlisted number, she was surprised to see that it was her father calling.  
  
"Hi, Dad," she said warily.  
  
"Good morning, Sydney. I was wondering if you were free for breakfast."  
  
"I am. Where do you want to meet?"  
  
"Sara's Deli in half an hour."  
  
"I'll be there."  
  
They hung up without saying good-bye. Sydney walked through the doors of Sara's Deli fifteen minutes late and she saw her father sitting at a booth, a cup of coffee in front of him. They hadn't spoken since he had taken her to see Vaughn. She thought he would scold her for being late, but to her surprise, his expression was almost gentle as he greeted her.  
  
"This place is secure, so you can speak freely. How are you?" he asked.  
  
"Good. How about you?"  
  
"Good."  
  
They lapsed into an uneasy silence. The waitress came by to take their orders. When she left, Sydney looked at Jack expectantly. She could see his jaw working as he struggled to find the words.  
  
"What is it, Dad?" she prompted. "Did you want to talk about mom?"  
  
"I want to kill her for what she did to you," Jack said harshly. "But I didn't come here to talk about her."  
  
Sydney frowned. "Did you want to talk about Vaughn?"  
  
"No, but how is he doing?"  
  
"He's healing, and he'll be going home with his mother in a day or two. Doctor Chan's hoping being in his childhood home will jog his memory."  
  
"You met his mother."  
  
"Yes. She loves him very much and she was ready to take on the entire agency after she found out he was an agent."  
  
"You care about him a lot too, Sydney," Jack chided, his tone was mild but his eyes were hard. "Too much, I think, and it's dangerous."  
  
Sydney sighed. "I heard this from Weiss already, Dad. He's my new handler, by the way, and he's not making it easy for me to see Vaughn."  
  
"As well he should. It's too dangerous for you to be seen with him. If Sloane found out, I don't think I need to tell you the outcome of that particular scenario."  
  
"I know, I know. I won't be in to see him again.for a while."  
  
"I'm sure Agent Weiss will be more than happy to provide you with updates."  
  
Sydney sipped her coffee and looked at her father over its rim. A change of subject was in order before she blew up at him and stalked out of the deli like some spoiled debutante.  
  
"Why did you ask me to meet you here?"  
  
Jack couldn't seem to meet her eyes. He focused on the contents of coffee mug. "I just.I just wanted to see how you were."  
  
She smiled her first real smile in many days. "Really?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She reached across the table and put a hand over his. "Thanks, Dad."  
  
He smiled, the move rusty, but it was enough for her.  
  
* * *  
  
"Joey's Pizza."  
  
"Wrong number."  
  
Sydney pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse. Francie wasn't home so there was no need to make up some story about why she was leaving. She reached the warehouse in no time at all and had to take a few deep breaths at the wheel to calm herself down. Weiss was waiting for her inside, his hands jammed in his coat pockets.  
  
"I hope I didn't disturb you," he said stiffly.  
  
"No, you didn't," she said coolly. "What's up?"  
  
"Mike's going home tomorrow."  
  
"Don't worry. I won't be making any house calls."  
  
Weiss ignored her sarcasm, getting his temper in check. If he was to be her handler, they really did need some kind of amicable relationship. Definitely not like the one she had with Vaughn, but something more workable-and in accord with the rules.  
  
"Actually, his mother invited us to dinner," he informed her casually. "This Friday at seven."  
  
Sydney could feel the blood drain from her face. She forgot about being angry with Weiss as her mind wrapped itself around this particular mission. For that was what it was.a mission.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me."  
  
He shook his head, looking as troubled as she. "Since she's learned that Mike has this whole other life she didn't know about, she wants all the details that were kept from her. We're the only two she's met and she guessed the closest to him, so."  
  
"We're going to be interrogated. What do we tell her? What if he says something?"  
  
"I already had a talk with him about not mentioning anything involving work that he may remember. He understands that it needs to be kept under wraps. I didn't say anything about you, though. He still thinks you're a regular old co-worker, not a double agent who could send us all to our graves."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Gimme a break."  
  
"It's true. I can't believe Devlin's letting us go through with this, but he seems to think it's in Vaughn's best interest that we do."  
  
"Glad he cares about something."  
  
Weiss didn't disagree. "He probably feels he owes Mrs. Vaughn something. In any case, we've got a team to cover your ass in case it's followed, but you have to keep an eye out too."  
  
Sydney bit back a sarcastic remark, not wanting to start anything. "I won't be expected to visit again, will I?"  
  
"After this first time, I think I might keel over if you make another trip there. I swear, the stress is giving me the shakes."  
  
Her eyes lit up with amusement. "You desk jockeys are not cut out to be in this end of the business. Whenever I met with Vaughn, he always had this crinkle right between this eyes that never went away no matter what we talked about. I hope I didn't stress him out too much."  
  
"No, not too much."  
  
They smiled tentatively at each other.  
  
"Truce?" Weiss said, holding out a hand. "I only have my friend's best interests at heart."  
  
"You got it," she said, shaking it. "And I want nothing but the best for him, too."  
  
"Alright, then. I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Here are the directions to the Vaughn homestead." He handed her a piece of paper.  
  
"Great. See you then, Weiss."  
  
"Later, Sydney."  
  
* * * 


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
Sydney smoothed her crimson skirt and straightened her black shirt as she walked up towards the front door of Geneviève Vaughn's home. She was nervous, to say the least, but she was glad to see that her car was the only one in the driveway. She wasn't late, but she didn't want to be the last person there. A stained glass window decorated with vines and flowers didn't hide the broad-shouldered form who answered the doorbell's ring.  
  
Vaughn's smile was welcoming and the gleam in his eyes told her he liked what he saw. She couldn't fight the soft blush creeping up to her cheeks as his stare lasted a little longer than comfortable. He then became aware that they had been standing there for too long without saying a word and smiled sheepishly.  
  
"Hi, Syd," he said.  
  
"Hi, Michael," she said, silently reminding herself to not call him Vaughn. "Thank you for inviting me tonight."  
  
He stepped aside so she could get in the house. Her heels clicked smartly on the polished marble floor of the foyer. Delicious scents were wafting out of the kitchen where a few sounds told her Geneviève was still working in there.  
  
"Thanks for coming," he said, putting a guiding hand on the small of her back. "Can I get you something to drink? A gin and tonic?"  
  
She was surprised that he knew that was her drink of choice and even if he did have his memory, she would have still been surprised because she had mentioned it only once in passing. "How did you know?"  
  
He shrugged, a small frown lining his brow. "I just...knew."  
  
He led her into the elegant sitting room and Sydney sat down on the striped cream-colored couch. Vaughn went to the small bar in one corner and began to mix her drink as she studied the room. Bay windows framed with filmy white curtains took up one wall and two armchairs of the same pattern as the couch sat in front of it. It was not a room where she could have kicked off her shoes and sat back, propping her feet up on the glass-topped table, but it was a proper area for entertaining guests. Sydney chewed on her lip, her nervousness heightened by what she perceived to be Mrs. Vaughn's sense of propriety. She tugged on the hem of her skirt, wishing it would go past her knees.  
  
Vaughn handed her a glass and sat down in an armchair. "How's work?"  
  
"Good. Busy. How have you been doing?"  
  
He looked down at the glass filled with brandy that he held in his hands, his expression pensive "I get flashes of scenes that I can't place, like bits and pieces of a movie that I must have seen before, but can't remember the plot. Doctor Chan's hoping that my being home will jog my memory a bit, and it is a little."  
  
"Do you.do you see me in those scenes?" Sydney asked hesitantly.  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
She could see that he was holding something back, but before she could ask the doorbell rang. Vaughn threw her an apologetic smile and stood to get it. Weiss' voice carried from the foyer and she stood in greeting when he entered the room.  
  
"Hi, Sydney," he said.  
  
"Hi, Weiss."  
  
"Call me Eric. Weiss sounds too professional in here."  
  
"Eric it is."  
  
Geneviève entered the room then. She smiled at her guests and they noticed that her mood had improved considerably since taking Vaughn home. Sydney and Weiss shook her hand and exchanged pleasantries as Vaughn watched.  
  
"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but I just wanted to finish up in the kitchen so that we could have dinner right away."  
  
"It smells delicious," Weiss said graciously  
  
"Thank you, Agent Weiss."  
  
"Please call me Eric, Mrs. Vaughn."  
  
"Then I insist that you call me Geneviève. There will be no more formalities from now on. You have both been there for Michel when he needed you and I am grateful. I believe that he will need you both even more now."  
  
Sydney and Weiss exchanged a look.  
  
"Come," Geneviève said with a sweeping gesture. "Let us eat."  
  
Dinner was a more relaxed affair and Geneviève was a wonderful cook. She shared stories of Vaughn's childhood that amused Weiss and Sydney. Vaughn had a feeling he would have been embarrassed if this had been under normal circumstances but as it was, he was just as interested as they were in hearing these stories. He had spoken to his mother in length about his history, but they had touched upon the near past rather than his childhood. To her dismay, none of her stories jogged his memory, and right then, nothing she said was familiar to him at all. Poking at his steak with his fork, he hid his disappointment.  
  
Sydney sensed rather than saw Vaughn's change in mood. She glanced across the table from him and caught his eye. He managed a tight smile and shook his head at her to tell her he was alright. They both knew she wasn't convinced and Sydney made a mental note to speak to him later.  
  
They helped Geneviève clear the table and Weiss rolled up his sleeves to tackle the dishes. He laughed and talked with Geneviève easily as if they were old friends, leaving Sydney and Vaughn at loose ends. Weiss threw Sydney a look behind Geneviève's back and she was shocked that he was giving her a chance to speak to Vaughn alone. She would question his motives later. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Sydney turned to her former handler.  
  
"Do you want to take a walk?" she asked.  
  
"Sure," he said, though his eyes told her he was wondering what she was up to. "My mother's garden is in full bloom. We can go out there."  
  
He led her to the backyard and took her down the path that would take them through the blooming flora. The moon was full and cast a silvery light on the garden. It was beautiful and too romantic for Sydney's piece of mind. Here she was with the man she'd fought so hard to keep at arm's length and the days of worry had taken their toll on her self-control. Without thinking, she tucked her hand into his elbow, needing the simple touch.  
  
"What's on your mind?" he inquired, looking down at her.  
  
"Actually, I was just about to ask you that question."  
  
"What are you to me, Syd?" he said before he could lose his nerve. "I get this feeling that you and Eric aren't telling me all that I have to know. You're not just a co-worker, and I think that we're friends, but there's something more there. We're not.it's probably against the rules, but tell me the truth."  
  
She shook her head. "We're not anything more than friends, Vaughn."  
  
"Why do you call me Vaughn? If we're such good friends, why don't you call me Michael or Mike? And I call you Syd, not.Bristow. You told my mom your name was Sydney Mason. I didn't correct her. I didn't think I should."  
  
She sighed and stopped walking in order to look up into his troubled face. "You were right in not saying anything. My name is Sydney Bristow, not Mason, but it's dangerous for her to know that so Weiss made that name up. I call you Vaughn because that's what I've always called you and I can't seem to break myself of the habit. We are friends, but our friendship is different from any friendship that I've ever had, and I suspect it is the same for you."  
  
"In those flashes of memory that I told you about, you're always bruised and hurting. I get this feeling of wanting to protect you and comfort you, but at the same time, I know that I shouldn't do either of those things." He rubbed his eyes. "I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this, but it's just so damned frustrating to see only small pieces of my life. I want it back. I want my life back."  
  
The pain in his bright green eyes was unbearable and Sydney put her arms around him carefully, offering him her support. He reached for her and held her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Vaughn," she whispered, stroking the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I wish that I could find a way to make this all go away because you don't deserve this. You're a good man and one of the best agents out there."  
  
"Is that all I am?"  
  
He pulled back and the expression on his face told her that they were close to treading on dangerous territory. She took a quick breath and stepped out of the circle of his arms.  
  
"We're friends," she repeated.  
  
His lips thinned. "There's something more. I know it."  
  
"Michel! Sydney!" Geneviève called. "Come in for coffee."  
  
"We're coming, Mom," Vaughn called back.  
  
Vaughn helped his mother with the coffee as Weiss and Sydney retreated to the sitting room.  
  
"What happened out there?" Weiss whispered.  
  
"He's adjusting," Sydney hedged. "It's hard, but he's handling things. Have you had a chance to talk to him?"  
  
"Yeah, but he doesn't say much. I think he kinda has a feeling that we weren't on the best of terms before he left for Taipei."  
  
"You weren't?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Weiss' expression shuttered. "Personal problems."  
  
Sydney stared at him but he refused to meet her eyes. Geneviève entered the room with a tray of coffee cups, Vaughn close at her heels with the pot. He looked from Weiss to Sydney and he was thoughtful. He could remember speaking to Weiss about her but what they talked about was beyond his reach at that moment. The two agents stayed long enough to finish their coffee, but they stood at the same time to excuse themselves for the night.  
  
"It was a wonderful dinner, Geneviève," Sydney said, hugging her. "Thank you for inviting me."  
  
"It was my pleasure. Please come back again."  
  
"I will," Sydney lied.  
  
She moved on to Weiss, leaving Sydney face-to-face with Vaughn.  
  
"I want to see you again," he said boldly.  
  
"You will."  
  
He threw her a hard look. "I better."  
  
He hugged her, but she was stiff in his arms. She could feel Weiss' eyes boring holes in the back of her head.  
  
"Goodnight, Vaughn."  
  
"Goodnight, Sydney." 


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
Will was a nervous wreck. He hadn't been allowed out of the CIA safe house since his arrival there the week before and he was nearly clawing at the walls to get out. The agent staying with him was an attractive young woman, but she barely said a word to him, her attention on whatever files she had spread out in front of her. The television was on almost twenty- four hours a day, and he was sick of watching it. Agent whatever-her-name- is had brought him books that he requested, but an unceasing restlessness gripped him and he couldn't sit still long enough to read anything.  
  
Neither Jack or Sydney had stopped by to see him, and he had stored up a good number of questions to ask both of them. His imagination had been running wild all week and he surmised that both father and daughter were spies. It all made sense now that he thought about it, considering how busy Sydney always was and how she was always out of the country. Danny's death fit in there somehow, but he refused to go into that matter. He hoped that Sydney would be able to clear it up for him.  
  
If she ever showed up.  
  
* * *  
  
Across town, Vaughn wasn't feeling much different. He knew his mother was only trying to help, but he felt like the walls were closing in on him. He could not remember her past the last couple days and his lack of memory had caused more than one hurtful incident to occur. He could only imagine how difficult it was for her to deal with him and he tried to be kind, but he had his own troubles to sort out. It was his identity that was missing and though he'd been even-tempered thus far, he could feel his frustrations grating on him.  
  
He wanted to talk to Weiss or Sydney, but he didn't know how to contact either of them. It was possible to simply go outside and ask one of the men watching his house to give him Agent Weiss' office number, but he didn't really know what he wanted to ask his friend. He just wanted someone else to talk to but he didn't think it was appropriate to call Weiss up at work for chit chat.  
  
Running a hand through his tousled hair, Vaughn tried to focus on what was on the television. He could hear his mother humming as she worked on her embroidery and the sound was like nails on a chalkboard to him. He needed to get out.  
  
"I'm going to go out," he said in French, pushing himself off the couch.  
  
"Michel, that is not a good idea. What if something happens?" she said worriedly.  
  
"Even though I don't remember, I know I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. I just need to get out for a while, Mom. Please understand that."  
  
Her lips thinned. "Then, at least let me call one of your friends to accompany you."  
  
Vaughn was annoyed that she thought he needed a babysitter, but then he wondered who she was talking about.  
  
"What friends?"  
  
"Eric and Sydney, who else?" A gleam entered Geneviève's eye that he knew he should be afraid of. "How about we try Sydney first?"  
  
In other circumstances, Vaughn was sure he wouldn't be thrilled at his mother's matchmaking, but in this case he wanted to see Sydney. It had been two days since she had come for dinner and he hadn't heard from her since.  
  
"Fine." He turned off the TV. "How did you get her number?"  
  
Geneviève's lips thinned as she picked up the receiver. "Let's just say that I have a few old friends at the CIA."  
  
"Can I at least do the calling?" He held out his hand. "I'm not an invalid."  
  
She handed him the phone. "Fine."  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney curled up on the couch with a glass of wine, exhaustion deepening the lines on her face. It had been a particularly hard day at work as she went over her experience in Taipei over and over again. She was careful not to slip up but the effort was tiring.  
  
"Do you know where Will is?" Francie asked from the kitchen.  
  
"No clue. Why?" Sydney lied easily. She meant to go visit Will but couldn't bring herself to face him and his questions just yet. It was heartless, she knew, but she couldn't find the inner strength to do it.  
  
"I haven't head from him in a while. I'm getting kind of worried. I called the newspaper but they say that he hasn't been in all week. Do you think something's wrong?"  
  
"He probably ran away to a cabin in the middle of nowhere to go fishing," Sydney said confidently. "He's always threatening to run off somewhere."  
  
"Yeah, but I didn't actually think he would do it."  
  
"He's been stressed out lately. He probably cracked and took off."  
  
Francie walked into the living room, a glass of wine in one hand and bowl of chips in the other. "I hope so. I'm still worried though.about you too."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yeah, you. You've been walking around here with the longest face I have ever seen." She regarded Sydney with a practiced eye. "Did something happen between you and Will?"  
  
Sydney was surprised at the question and looked it. "No. Why do you say that?"  
  
Francie chewed on her lip. "Um.well, you know he's had feelings for you for a long time."  
  
That was news to Sydney. "You've got to be kidding me. Will doesn't see me like that. We've been friends for so long."  
  
"Please, Syd. I can't believe you didn't notice."  
  
"What?"  
  
"He looks at you with these puppy dog eyes. For a little while I thought you felt the same way as he did."  
  
Sydney nearly choked on the sip of wine she'd taken. "No way!" she protested. "Francie, I never considered Will anymore than a friend."  
  
"I believe you now, but for a while.come on, 'fess up. It's only the two of us here. Think about it."  
  
Sighing, Sydney did rack her brain for any signs that she started to look at Will in a new light. To her consternation, she did remember feeling a surge of jealousy when he brought Jenny over for Thanksgiving, but besides that, nothing really. There was that one time when they kissed, but she regretted it the second after it was over. She felt like she had done something wrong and then she felt guilty.  
  
It felt like she had cheated on Vaughn.  
  
Francie watched the array of emotions dance across Sydney's expressive features. She had silently hoped that nothing would ever happen between her two friends, knowing that nothing good would ever come out of it. Sydney was wrapped up in her job and Francie suspected that it would come before any man. Will, on the other hand, would give his right leg to be with Sydney and he would have felt under appreciated because of Sydney's preoccupation with work.  
  
"Maybe for a while." Sydney conceded. "But not now, Francie. Will's a good friend and I'll keep it that way."  
  
"Good," Francie said, relieved. "Do you get lonely sometimes though?"  
  
"Sometimes?" Sydney snorted. "Try most of the time. Passing out in hotel rooms after a hard day's work is not conducive to meeting new people."  
  
"Bet you could liven things up if you tried," her friend said slyly.  
  
Sydney laughed. "Thanks, but no thanks."  
  
"Seriously though, is there anybody out there that you would consider?"  
  
"No."  
  
Francie didn't look convinced. "Really? No hot international men have crossed your path? No intelligent, good-looking men at work?"  
  
Sydney found herself tempted to spill her guts to Francie, but quickly fought the urge. She was already pushing it by visiting him so much.  
  
"Nope. None of the above."  
  
Francie sighed. "Looks like we're going to be stuck in this house for the rest of our days. Old Miss Francie, Old Miss Sydney, and their fifty cats."  
  
Sydney raised her glass. "Here, here."  
  
Just then the phone rang and Sydney picked it up since she was closer.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
Sydney recognized his voice. "Vaughn," she breathed before she thought about it.  
  
"I was wondering if you were busy tonight."  
  
A million reasons to shoot him down ran through her mind, but the edge to his voice told her that it would not be a good idea to pay heed to any of those reasons at that moment.  
  
"No, I'm not."  
  
"Do you want to go get a drink or something? I need to stretch my legs out."  
  
"Sure. How about I pick you up in an hour?"  
  
"That sounds great. I'll wait for you."  
  
"Alright. Bye."  
  
Sydney put down the phone, bemused. Francie was looking at her with disbelief.  
  
"Who was that?" she demanded.  
  
"A friend from work."  
  
"A man friend?"  
  
"Yes. He wants to meet for drinks."  
  
Francie grinned. "What are you waiting for? Go get ready!" 


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven  
  
Sydney pulled up to the Vaughn home and was about to get out of the car, but she saw Vaughn's familiar form coming towards her. He smiled in greeting, but even in the dim lighting she could see how tense he was. She smiled back to try to put him at ease, but he only seemed to get more tense. His eyes kept on bouncing around from her face to a point behind her head, then back to her face again. It was making her nervous.  
  
"Hi," she said when he got in the car.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Where to?"  
  
He shrugged. "It's up to you. I don't really remember any place I liked to go."  
  
"There's this Irish pub in the city that I heard about. You want to try it out?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
She pulled out of the driveway. The silence between them was awkward as Sydney tried to think of something to talk about. This occupied her to the point that she didn't notice the parked sedan that they passed. In it, a man in a suit pulled out his cell phone.  
  
"It's me," he said. "Bristow just came by. He left with her."  
  
On the other end of the line, Weiss groaned. "Great. That's just great. Follow them and let me know where they stop."  
  
"Roger that."  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney spotted an empty booth and made her way to it. She slid into the seat and Vaughn sat across from her. O'Donnelly's wasn't too crowded, but there were enough people there to draw attention away from them. The last thing they needed was to be spotted, but only Sydney knew that. As far as Vaughn was concerned, they were just out for a drink.  
  
They ordered their drinks and when the waitress left, Sydney studied her companion. Vaughn was slouched in his seat and he had dark circles under his eyes. His fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the tabletop and like in the car, he couldn't seem to keep focused on her. He bore little resemblance to the man she'd walked in the moonlight with and bore even less resemblance to the man who was her handler. A vise tightened around her heart as she realized how much she missed that Vaughn who thought nothing of risking his life for her. This man sitting across from her now was not him, at least not yet. She had always wanted to do something like this with him, but this Vaughn was not her Vaughn and the thought was painful.  
  
"Vaughn," she said softly.  
  
"I'm sorry. I just needed to get out of there," he said, trying to smile but failing miserably. "The walls were closing in on me."  
  
"I see."  
  
"I'm going to see a psychiatrist tomorrow," he said, fiddling with a napkin. "Barnett. She's the Agency's doc."  
  
"Are you nervous?"  
  
"A little. Eric told me I'd spoken to her before and it didn't go to well. I hope she tells me what it was about. I don't think amnesia is her specialty, but I think she's just going to check me out then refer me to someone else." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not looking forward to this at all."  
  
"It's necessary if you're going to get better," Sydney said gently.  
  
The waitress came back with their beer. Vaughn watched with some amusement as Sydney took a big swallow of her Heineken.  
  
"I didn't take you for a beer drinker," he said.  
  
She smiled. "It surprises people. I don't know why."  
  
"You look like the kind of woman who brandishes a glass of chardonnay like an accessory."  
  
"I don't know how to take that."  
  
"Not badly."  
  
Her smile widened to a grin. "Thanks then. Have you remembered anything new?"  
  
Immediately, the tight look he wore before returned and Sydney wanted to kick herself for bringing it back.  
  
"My dreams are filled with things my brain has locked away," he confessed. "I remember things that may have come from my childhood and some other things that, I believe, have happened recently. You asked me out."  
  
She reddened. "What?"  
  
"To a hockey game. You asked me out."  
  
She managed a chuckle. "Yes, I did."  
  
His gaze was intense and she had to look away. "Did we go?" he demanded.  
  
"No. You thought the hockey game could wait until we were...free."  
  
Vaughn was puzzled by her response and he glanced down at her left ring finger, his observant eyes immediately spotting the tan line from a ring.  
  
"Free from what?" he asked, afraid of the answer.  
  
"Work."  
  
"Oh." He took a swig of his own beer. "Nothing else?"  
  
Sydney wondered if he remembered Danny, but didn't want to go into it. "Nothing else."  
  
He sighed. "I don't know why I'm so preoccupied with our relationship, but it's like it was leftover from before this whole amnesia bit. I have this feeling that once I get a grasp of it, everything else will come back to me."  
  
"I'm not that important to you, Vaughn," she said, her voice soft.  
  
"I think you are. More than either of us could ever guess, you're unbelievably important to me."  
  
Tears stung the corners of Sydney's eyes and she reached across the table to grasp his hand. He turned his hand over and held hers tightly, his eyes speaking volumes.  
  
Then to Sydney's everlasting horror, a tall man stopped by their table, his expression curious.  
  
"Sydney," Dixon said. "Fancy meeting you here."  
  
* * *  
  
Weiss felt like throwing a table across the room, right on top of Dixon's head. He was just about to go over to where Sydney and Vaughn were sitting to break up their little party, but the older man beat him to the punch. Now, they were all in big trouble. Gritting his teeth and pasting a relaxed smile on his face, Weiss went to the bar, making sure he picked a spot where he could watch the proceedings.  
  
He'd known since the day he realized Vaughn had feelings for the woman that something like this could happen. There was something on Vaughn's face that he'd never seen before, and he'd known him a long time. Not even when he was with Alice did Weiss see his friend act the way he did when Sydney was concerned. He'd put his life and his career on the line for her more than once, and for a man as conscientious as Vaughn, this was no small feat. Their friendship had been damaged by Weiss' continued entrieties to stop being so involved with Sydney, and if there was a time for him to say 'I told you so', this was it. This situation and the one that left Vaughn close to death and now without his memories were prime examples of why a handler should separate himself or herself from the case. In another life, Mike and Sydney might have had a future together...but not in this one.  
  
Even at this distance, Weiss could see the shock on Sydney's face and the rush of heat to her cheeks. He could only hope that Dixon would mistake it for embarrassment instead of dread. Judging from the amused smile on the man's face, it was the former and Weiss was relieved. He ordered a beer from the bartender without looking at the man, his narrowed eyes focused on his friend and the woman who may bring them all down. Wishing that he had a listening device on their table, he made do with reading Sydney's lips.  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney's mind was flying at thousand miles a minute. She knew that Dixon could tell her smile was forced by the concerned look on his face, but she couldn't seem to relax her face. Despite all that she had been through, she never felt more out of control that at that moment. To her relief, Vaughn held out a hand to Dixon, a friendly smile on his face.  
  
"Hi, I'm Michael," he said, thinking that Dixon looked like a proud papa, happy that his little girl found a good man.  
  
"Marcus," Dixon said, grinning and shaking Vaughn's hand enthusiastically. "And this is my wife, Diane."  
  
"Sydney, dear, you look like you've choked on a peanut," Diane said amusedly.  
  
"I'm just surprised to see you," Sydney said with a weak smile. "Did you just get here?"  
  
"No, we were just leaving," Dixon said. "We were almost out the door when I spotted you over here."  
  
"Oh. Would you like to join us?"  
  
Dixon raised a hand. "No, no. We just wanted to say hi. I'll see you at work, Syd. It was nice to meet you, Michael."  
  
"Have a good night," Diane said, with a wink at Sydney.  
  
Sydney was too unbalanced to be embarrassed by the move and she gave vague farewell, watching Dixon and his wife weave through the crowd and out the door.  
  
Vaughn looked at her curiously, even more so when she grew even more pale. He started to ask what the matter was when something clicked in his head.  
  
"He's your partner, isn't he?" he asked.  
  
Slowly turning her head to face him, Sydney managed a stiff nod. "Yes. He's a good man."  
  
"Okay...then how come he doesn't know me?"  
  
"We're deep cover agents, Vaughn," Sydney said before she could even think about it. "Not everybody knows everybody at the CIA."  
  
"That's true," he said easily. "Anyway, you looked like you really did choke on a peanut when you saw them. Are we not allowed to be seen together?"  
  
Smart guy, she thought silently, but said aloud, "Well, Dixon's going to assume we're on a date, but I'll clear that up tomorrow when I see him. Although it's really not written anywhere, fraternization between officers is frowned upon. Even more so between desk jockeys and field agents."  
  
Vaughn chuckled. "Judging by the pain I went through just to run two miles this morning, I'm guessing you're the field agent and I'm the desk jockey."  
  
"You look fit to me."  
  
He arched an eyebrow at her and she pretended like her beer held the secrets of the universe in order to avoid his eyes. Then, she remembered spotting Weiss at the bar and she rose.  
  
"I'll be right back."  
  
"Okay."  
  
She brushed past Weiss and went to the dark alcove in front of the restrooms. He followed her a minute later, eyes bright with anger.  
  
"You don't have to say it," she said forcefully. "But he called me and I didn't know how to refuse him."  
  
"Hurt his feelings if you have to!" Weiss hissed under his breath. "Sydney, this is not some demented dating game. If we want to protect ourselves, we have to be careful. You took a big chance by taking Vaughn out and letting the two of you be seen together." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "We need to create a contingency plan because I think that by the time you get to work tomorrow, Sloane will know about Vaughn."  
  
Sydney nodded. Weiss held her gaze, his face hard.  
  
"You couldn't have made this any harder for yourself, for me, and for Vaughn," he said. "You should have known better."  
  
"I know," she muttered, angry at herself and at Weiss for taking the high road. "I'll talk to you later."  
  
"You bet you will. I'll be calling you later tonight," he spat.  
  
Without another word, she whirled on her heel and went back to the table. Vaughn looked concerned, but she took a deep breath and pasted a real enough looking smile on her face. Weiss counted to ten then headed out the door to his car so that he could tail them.  
  
"This was nice," she said. "Thanks for calling me."  
  
"Sure. Thanks for taking me out. I needed it." He didn't look convinced. "Is everything okay, Syd?"  
  
"Yeah, why do you ask?"  
  
"I dunno. Just a feeling."  
  
"I'm fine," she said, carelessly patting his hand, every move she made from now on carefully planned. "How about we head back? I'm tired and I have to get up early tomorrow."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Despite her protests, he paid for their drinks and they headed out. Sydney saw the car pull in behind her on the rearview mirror and knew it was Weiss. That didn't make her feel better. To her relief, she managed to make it to Vaughn's house without further incident.  
  
"Have a good night," he said, unlatching his seatbelt.  
  
"You, too," she said, throwing him a brief smile and returning her attention to the rearview mirror and glaring at Weiss' car.  
  
He didn't open the door just then and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him make a move towards her. She turned her head at the exact moment he leaned forward in order to kiss her cheek, but the timing was just right for him to brush her lips instead. Sydney's heart leaped in her throat and she saw his green eyes widen in surprise. The touch was quick, but she felt it down to her toes. Vaughn read the shock on her face and had to fight the urge to prolongue the kiss.  
  
"Oops," he murmured as he sat back. "Sorry."  
  
"It's okay," she said, putting a hand to her lips. "Bye, Vaughn."  
  
He smiled and got out of the car. She raced down the street as if her car was on fire and so didn't see the quiet smile that stayed on his face for a long while after. 


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight  
  
Sydney walked into the warehouse, bracing herself for an earful from Weiss. So it was a surprise when he greeted her with civility, though there was a coldness that remained in his eyes. She got the message; they were going to play this like the professionals they were supposed to be. No personal issues would be in the way while they were in this warehouse, but Sydney knew that things wouldn't be the same when they were outside of it. Weiss was too fiery for that.  
  
"What's the plan?" she asked, hopping up on a crate and sitting on it.  
  
"We play along with it," he answered, leaning against the wall.  
  
"So we keep Vaughn and his mother where they are. I play it like a little kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar."  
  
Despite his anger, Weiss was impressed with her quick pick up. "That about sums it up. You tell Sloane how much you love him and couldn't bring yourself to end it before it started. There was something between you, yada, yada, yada."  
  
She smirked. "Not much of a romantic, are you?"  
  
His eyes narrowed. "No."  
  
They stared at each other.  
  
"You know what this means, don't you?" she said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I have to keep going out with Vaughn. Sloane will have me followed and if we want this story to ring true, I have to actually date him."  
  
Weiss rubbed his eyes. "Yes, that's right. I just wanted to get myself ready to tell you that, but I'm glad you're smart enough to have figured it all out."  
  
"We can't tell him though," Sydney said, ignoring his tone. "Vaughn can't know the real reason why I'm suddenly inviting him everywhere."  
  
"No, he can't. God, this is such a mess."  
  
Sydney felt her heart constrict at the hopeless sound of Weiss' words. He was right. She had to pretend to date Vaughn, all the while making him believe that they were a normal couple. If the kiss they shared was any indication, he was well on his way to developing deeper feelings for her and she for him. Before all this, they were aware of their mutual attraction, but reigned those emotions in because of all the complications they brought. Since in the past, the two of them were in control, it was possible, but if it was only up to Sydney to keep it professional...she didn't think she had the strength, and from the look on Weiss' face, he was thinking the same thing.  
  
"I'll give him a call in a couple days," she said, more to herself than her handler.  
  
"Be careful," Weiss said.  
  
They exchanged a look.  
  
"Be careful with him," he added hesitantly.  
  
"I will," she reassured him with a confidence she didn't feel.  
  
* * *  
  
Vaughn had a vague feeling of dread as he waited outside Dr. Barnett's office. He was annoyed that since arriving there ten minutes earlier, the door to her office had not yet opened. She didn't have a secretary and he knocked once only to be told that it would be a few more minutes. His hands clutching his knees tensely, Vaughn took a deep breath--then took another. Just when he was about to start pacing, the thick oak door opened, and a young woman stepped out, her brow furrowed. She glanced once at him, and walked on past, lost in her thoughts. He watched her move down the corridor, wondering what had happened in the office to make her upset, and hoping that he wouldn't leave in the same condition.  
  
"Mr. Vaughn," a calm soothing voice drew him out of his wonderings.  
  
Turning his head, he met the steady gaze of an older woman, her long blonde hair pulled back from her face. She smiled in what he was sure she thought of as a soothing way and stepped to one side, a silent invitation to enter.  
  
"Dr. Barnett," he said, standing.  
  
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," she said as he walked past her. "Please have a seat wherever you like."  
  
Without knowing it, Vaughn sat down in the same place on the couch where he'd sat months before. Barnett took note of the fact, and sat down in an armchair across from him. It was her favorite chair, but she didn't protest when someone sat in it. She wanted them to be comfortable above all else because when they weren't, her job became much harder than it already was. Being the resident psychiatrist for an intelligence agency was no small thing and Barnett was one of the best. Along the way, she'd learned enough techniques to survive the more difficult sessions and she had a feeling this one was going to rank up there.  
  
"So, how have you been doing?" she began. "I'm sure this has been a very difficult time for you. I can only imagine the frustration that you must be feeling right now."  
  
Cool and collected, the man sitting in front of her was no different from the Michael Vaughn she'd spoken to, though a marked difference was the slight glimmer of fear in his eyes as he regarded her. No, Barnett corrected, not fear--it was uncertainty. A corner of his lips tilted upwards thoughtfully as he considered her words and his eyes pointed down to the toes of his shiny black shoes. She guessed, correctly, that he was trying to gauge how much he should tell her. Deep down inside of him, where it wasn't possible for a person to forget anything, he knew that he should be careful around her. This instinct was making him hesitate now, despite the apparent simplicity of her question. Barnett wrote all this down on her yellow legal pad.  
  
"It's been two weeks since I woke up in the hospital," he said slowly. "I've been living at home with my mother, but I'm sure you know all this."  
  
Barnett only nodded and he sighed.  
  
"I guess it's no surprise that it's been difficult. I get flashes of things that I know I should know about, but I don't. My dreams aren't dreams at all, but memories that are resurfacing and I force myself to wake up in order to try to piece together what I just remembered. I have notebooks full of writing--two already--of what I've seen in my dreams."  
  
"You do?" Barnett said. "That was very good insight on your part, Mr. Vaughn."  
  
"Thank you. I've read them over several times, and I've got a couple things straightened out. I ask my mother a lot of questions, but the majority of my memories, the things that are on the surface, they..."  
  
Barnett cocked her head to one side and tapped the tip of her pen on her chin. "They involve Sydney Bristow."  
  
Vaughn didn't answer and that was answer enough. He wanted to run out of the room and pretend none of this happened. He felt like Barnett had a camera in his brain and seeing things that she understood, but didn't bother explaining to him. Anger bubbled up inside of him, but he kept his face blank. Still, his green eyes sparkled dangerously.  
  
"The last time we spoke, she was the topic of our discussion," Barnett continued.  
  
They stared at each other.  
  
"Are you going to tell me?" Vaughn demanded, his voice rising as his frustration reached its peak. "I mean, I thought you were supposed to help me here, and instead I feel like you're only telling me what you want, instead of things I need to know."  
  
"That's true, Mr. Vaughn, but I can only help you help yourself," Barnett said, her tone pleasant as though he hadn't just been yelling at her. "The situation with Ms. Bristow is obviously very much on your mind and I think that if you remembered it all on your own, you'll be much closer to getting the rest of your memory back."  
  
Barnett quickly looked down at her notes in order to avoid Vaughn's suddenly thunderous expression. She'd seen the transformation before, much to her chagrin, but it was to be expected in her line of work. Usually, her response to this reaction was that it would hurt before it got better, but she didn't think it would be a good idea in this case. His temper was nearing its boiling point and she needed him to stay a little longer.  
  
"Please try to understand," she said gently. "I can only help you along the way, but you have to walk the path on your own two feet. Jogging your memory is one thing, but substituting it with stories of your life is another."  
  
The logical part of Vaughn's mind understood her explanation and accepted it, but he couldn't quite push his frustration aside. He knew Sydney was important to him, and he knew he was probably in love with her, but he also had a feeling that there was a lot more to the story than what met the eye. What was strange about this was that it seemed like everyone knew there was more, including Sydney, but no one would say anything. He reasoned that the need for secrecy was due to the fact that they were all working in the intelligence community, which meant that what he didn't know was of incredible importance. And in the middle of it all was Sydney Bristow.  
  
Vaughn blinked and realized that he'd been quiet too long. Barnett had lasered in on this fact and she was studying him too close for comfort. He sat up and adjusted his suit jacket.  
  
"It's just frustrating, that's all," he said lamely.  
  
"I understand," she said. "Now, what were you thinking just then? I might be able to help you with it."  
  
He didn't quite believe her and she could see that. On her notepad, Barnett put two stars on the top of the page to denote the difficulty level of this session. The maximum number of stars she'd ever written was seven, but she didn't think that Vaughn would have any problems reaching that point.  
  
"I just thought I remembered something," he said.  
  
"I see. Well, Mr. Vaughn, you seem very well adjusted to your situation. Granted, it has been only two weeks, but you're faring much better than other patients I've seen in your condition."  
  
"This happens often?" he asked, eyebrow raised in disbelief.  
  
"No, not at all, but that's not to see I haven't had one or two patients in here with the same problems you're experiencing," she replied. "In high stress occupations, brain functions do strange things and I think that sitting in this chair I've seen them all. Amnesia is only the tip of the iceberg."  
  
"How long did it take any other of your amnesiacs to get it all back?"  
  
"A year or so. You understand that you won't really get all of it back. There will always be holes in your memory, but not as many as there are now."  
  
"Dr. Chan explained it to me," he said. "Are we done here, Doctor?"  
  
Barnett glanced at her watch and saw that they had a good amount of time left, but she was never a stickler for time. She doubted she would get anything more from him in any case.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Vaughn, we're done. I would like to set another appointment for you sometime next week."  
  
He was not pleased by this, but, to her relief, did not protest. Nodding curtly, he stood.  
  
"Just give me a call," he said. "Does this mean that I'll be coming in here regularly?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I was expecting to be sent to a specialist."  
  
"Not with what's in your head," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm the only one with high enough clearance to hear it all--that is, if you decide to open up to me."  
  
The look on his face spoke volumes, but he merely held out a hand. "Thanks, Doctor. I'll see you next week then."  
  
"Have a good day," she said, taking the proferred hand.  
  
Vaughn couldn't have left the office fast enough. Barnett stayed in her seat, thoughtfully assessing the situation. She would have her hands full with him and she racked her brain for a way to get him to trust her even a little. Without trust, they would get nowhere. He didn't have to like her, she decided, but trust could go a long way in his recovery. Sighing, she picked up his file and placed her notes in it. 


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine  
  
Never had the Credit Dauphine building looked more menacing. Around Sydney, employees were scurrying into the structure, looking for all the world like busy bankers on their cell phones sealing multi-million dollar deals. Parking her car in the garage, Sydney joined the few who didn't work in the building, but under it. She clutched at her purse strap tightly, preparing herself for what would occur when she stepped from the elevator.  
  
Like she'd imagined, Sloane emerged from his office just as she put a booted foot outside of the elevator. He smiled disarmingly at her and beckoned for her to enter. Smiling, relaxed for all to see, Sydney went into his office.  
  
"Good morning," she said.  
  
"Good morning, Sydney," Sloane said, sitting on a corner of his desk. "Please, take a seat."  
  
Keeping a small smile on her face, Sydney took the seat directly in front of him, the move meant to show that she wasn't worried about what he had to say to her. That he would ask her about Vaughn was inevitable and something that he knew she was aware of. It was all about the delivery.  
  
"So, what's this I hear about you dating someone?" he said, cocking his head to one side curiously.  
  
Here goes nothing, she thought.  
  
Smiling sheepishly and hoping that he took the flush at her cheeks to be embarrassment instead of heightened blood pressure, Sydney clasped her hands on her lap and played it the way she planned.  
  
"His name is Michael Vaughn," she said, her voice containing the right amount of breathlessness. "We're not quite dating. We just met last night at a pub. I wanted to get a quick drink before going home and he was there. He introduced himself and we got a table. We saw Dixon there."  
  
"I heard," Sloane said. "Will you be seeing him again?"  
  
"I'd like to. He gave me his phone number and it's up to me to call him."  
  
Sydney could tell by the way that his eyes zeroed in on her face that Sloane was about to deliver a crippling blow.  
  
"Are you aware that he works for the CIA?"  
  
She didn't have to pretend to look contrite. "Yes, I learned that last night."  
  
"Yet, you wish to continue seeing him? I question the soundness of that decision."  
  
Nor did she have to pretend to be torn by this. "I realize that there is a conflict in that area, but...there's something about this man, Sloane," she said, meaning every word. "We haven't known each other for that long, but I just feel this connection with him." She stood up and began to pace. "I realize that it would be difficult for me in the long run because of SD-6 and the CIA, but we're all part of one big happy family right? Our affiliations may differ, but we're working towards the same goal. Michael is a good man and I've never met anyone like him."  
  
Sloane regarded her thoughtfully. "I've never seen you this passionate about something before."  
  
"I'm lonely, Sloane. I know this life that we're leading isn't supposed to be easy and most of us are alienated from the rest of the world, but...I just want someone for a little while. You have Emily and Dixon has Diane...I have no one. My father and I are too distant and scarred to be any closer than we already are." Her lips twisted bitterly. "And my mother...after what happened this past month, I'm surprised I haven't had a nervous breakdown. I need this."  
  
Sydney paused, noticing how pale Sloane suddenly got.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked.  
  
"Emily...Emily died," he murmured.  
  
Sydney felt the blood drain her face and she sat back down again, hard.  
  
"I thought she was in remission," she said, more stunned than saddened. "I thought she was fine and that she'd gone home. What happened?"  
  
Sloane cleared his throat. "She died in her sleep last week."  
  
Sydney embraced him, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Sloane. I wish that you'd told me sooner, but know that I'll be here for you."  
  
He patted her back awkwardly. "Thank you, Sydney. I've been working overtime for the past week because it's too hard to stay at home alone. You were right...sometimes you do just need one other person to be there and Emily was all that and more."  
  
"When's her funeral?"  
  
"She wanted a private burial. I buried her three days ago."  
  
"Alone?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Sydney wiped her eyes. "I'd like to visit her gravesite."  
  
Sloane nodded. "That's not a problem. Now...about Michael Vaughn..."  
  
"Give me a chance to have what you had with Emily."  
  
Sydney took a gamble by saying that, hoping that she could appeal to the more emotional side of her boss, and to her utter relief, she could see that it worked. His barriers lowered somewhat and along with his natural propensity to favor this particular SD-6 agent, he nodded.  
  
"Alright, Sydney," he said resignedly. "Have your fun with Agent Vaughn, but don't take it much farther than you have to. Anything past the dating stage for either of you would be disasterous."  
  
Remembering Danny, Sydney's lips tightened. She read Sloane's message between the lines; there would be no confessions on this relationship or else...  
  
"I don't know why I'm doing this," he said, standing. "But I think it's something Emily would have approved of. You do need this Sydney. You've been walking around here with a cloud over your head and because you're one of the best, I'll let this one pass. Whatever you do, do not get too close to Agent Vaughn. That's all I can say."  
  
"Yes, sir," she acknowledged, rising. "You don't know what this means to me."  
  
With a parting smile, she left the office only to run into her father. Jack Bristow looked positively thunderous and he stared down at his only daughter.  
  
"We need to talk," he said. "I'll come by your desk for lunch."  
  
"Dad..."  
  
"Later, Sydney."  
  
He brushed by her and went into Sloane's office. Sydney took a deep breath to gather herself. It wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning and already she was wishing that the day was over. News of Emily's death saddened her because she had truly liked Sloane's wife and Sydney often wondered how she ever got stuck with a monster like Sloane. Fighting back a fresh onslaught of tears, she went to her desk and sat down. Across from her, Dixon was sitting back in his seat.  
  
"You heard about Emily," he said kindly. "I'm sorry. I know you were close to her."  
  
"Yeah," Sydney said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I wish I could have gone to a funeral to say good-bye, but Sloane didn't have one."  
  
"I see."  
  
Sydney shuffled papers on her desk and Dixon picked up a report he was reading.  
  
"Dixon, the man you saw me with last night, he's CIA," Sydney said, not looking at him.  
  
She heard him put the report down, refusing to meet his eyes.  
  
"What?" he demanded, an edge to his voice.  
  
"He's a CIA agent."  
  
"Jesus," her partner sighed. "What possessed you to date a CIA agent? Sloane knows, doesn't he? That's why you were in there."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What does he have to say about all this."  
  
"He gave me his blessing."  
  
Dixon blinked. "You're joking."  
  
"No."  
  
"He must have taken a leave of his senses. Do you know how many ways we can be penetrated simply by you dating a CIA agent?"  
  
"Yes," Sydney muttered, getting tired of this conversation. "I also know that I want to keep seeing him. The last man I was with was Danny and I...I'm lonely, Dixon."  
  
Although he looked sympathetic, Sydney could tell Dixon was none too happy about this turn of events.  
  
"Just trust me, please," she said.  
  
Trust. She could see the word rang in Dixon's head and belatedly, she remembered how shaky his trust for her was.  
  
"Okay," he said cautiously. "Just be careful, alright? He looked like a nice guy, Syd, and I'm just afraid that things might go beyond your control."  
  
She reached across her desk and patted his hand. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."  
  
* * *  
  
Jack felt like his head was going to split open right in the middle, that was how bad his headache was. After hearing about Sydney taking Vaughn out the night before, it started to hurt right at his temples. Then, learning that Dixon had seen them, the pain had moved behind his eyes. When he figured out on his own that Sloane would find out, it just exploded until he was afraid he would black out and seeing Sydney emerge from their boss' office nearly made him lose it.  
  
But Jack Bristow was one of the best in his field and he kept his cool. As Sloane discussed new intelligence reports they had just received, he listened intently, though a part of his mind continued examining Sydney's situation. Still, his anger at his daughter for being so careless was making him clench his fists until his knuckles turned white. He made it a point not to keep on glancing at his watch every second, but like clockwork, he checked in thirty minute increments. Finally, noon rolled around and he got up from his chair, leaving reports that he hardly read, to find Sydney.  
  
She was already standing when he saw her, her purse slung on one shoulder. Not saying anything, Jack took her elbow and lead her to the elevator. She tensed under his grip, but kept her mouth shut, though her eyes were shooting darts at him. They walked to his car and got in.  
  
Sydney waited for her father to say something, but he stayed obstinately silent. He kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. She could see a vein pulsing in his temple and hoped they were going somewhere public so that he didn't dress her down. Her own temper flared up.  
  
By the time they reached Sara's Deli, they were both breathing harshly and barely looking at each other. They sat down and glared for a few moments before the server arrived to take their order. When he was out of an earshot, Jack finally spoke.  
  
"Have you lost your mind?" he hissed, leaning forward, lessening the space between them.  
  
"Dad, I know," she returned between gritted teeth. "I know the consequences and I know what could happen."  
  
"You know, but you don't understand."  
  
"I do."  
  
"Then why are we sitting here talking about this?"  
  
"Because...I need him," she confessed at a moment of weakness. She wanted someone to understand, anyone.  
  
Jack sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't need anybody, Sydney. You can want them, you can love them, but you don't ever need anybody."  
  
"That's not true."  
  
"In this line of work, you have to make it true. How many times do you have to hear this lecture before you get it? You can't have this relationship with Michael Vaughn. It can only lead to..."  
  
"I know!" Sydney said, her voice loud enough so that people around them glanced their way. Self-conscious, she slouched in her seat and regarded her father much like a petulant child. "I've heard this spiel from Weiss, Dixon, and Sloane. I can hardly let a minute go by without thinking about what can happen if this doesn't turn out like it should. I know, Dad, and believe me, I'm not going to forget. Berating me now isn't going to help either."  
  
That seemed to have pacified him for the moment. Jack took a sip of his coffee.  
  
"Have you seen your friend, Mr. Tippin?" he asked conversationally as if they hadn't just been arguing.  
  
Sydney groaned, closing her eyes and putting a hand to her forehead. "I can't believe it...I actually forgot about him. How is he doing?"  
  
"He's scratching at the walls to get out. The last couple days, he's been driving his agents nuts asking for you."  
  
A muscle in Sydney's jaw worked. "I'll go see him today."  
  
"No, you can't."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sloane is going to have you followed closely for however long you keep up this charade with Mr. Vaughn and a long time after that. You can't risk it."  
  
"What do I do about Weiss? I don't want to drag him into this, too. Can you get word to him to not set up face-to-face meetings with me? I think we should start exchanging messages through another medium."  
  
Jack nodded, warming to the idea. "Not e-mail, nothing that can leave a trail."  
  
"I think I'll be picking up a lot of garbage in my future."  
  
Their lunch came and Sydney realized she was starving. She hadn't been able to eat breakfast that morning.  
  
"This won't end happily," Jack said, a gentleness in his voice that she hadn't heard before. "It will only get harder, Sydney."  
  
"As long as SD-6 exists, nothing will ever be easy, Dad." 


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten  
  
Will stared at the agent sitting in the armchair in one corner of the room. He was starting to make it a game, trying to see how long he could stare at her until she looked up. The file on her lap must have been very interesting, because it was nearing five minutes and she hadn't looked up once. The TV was on, as usual, but he wasn't watching it--hadn't been watching it really for the past couple hours. He was way beyond boredom and he was way past being afraid he'd been forgotten.  
  
He knew he'd been forgotten.  
  
Two days ago, he'd been furious that Sydney, who was supposed to be his best friend, didn't even give him a call. Jack Bristow was a no show and at that point, even that guy who Jack had picked up sopping wet and bleeding would have been good. But there was no one. Just this unfriendly, silent CIA agent who simply sat there until it was time for her to go home. Then he would be alone, but it didn't really make a difference because they hardly spoke to each other. He couldn't recall ever having a conversation with her.  
  
Finally, to his delight, she looked up, and a flush spread across her cheekbones when she realized he was staring at her.  
  
"What are you reading there, Ms. Santiago?" Will asked playfully.  
  
"A report," she answered. "How long have you been staring at me?"  
  
"Long enough for me to wonder just how compelling that report is."  
  
"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Tippin?"  
  
"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Will? We've been stuck in this damned room for a long time, and I don't even know your first name. Gimme a break!"  
  
"Is there something I can do for you, Will?" she repeated, endlessly polite.  
  
He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but settled for a loud moan, throwing his head back on the couch.  
  
"How about a little freedom?"  
  
She only smiled tightly.  
  
"Come on. You can't be having too much fun baby-sitting me everyday. Can't I just go outside? Five minutes, that's all I'm asking."  
  
"I'm sorry, Will. It's not possible."  
  
"Always the same answer," he muttered. "Are you people trying to drive me crazy?"  
  
For once, Santiago looked sympathetic. "No, we're trying to protect you."  
  
"How much longer do I have to stay here then?"  
  
"I don't know," she said apologetically.  
  
Will cursed under his breath. "You do realize that people who know me and see me everyday will wonder where the hell I am."  
  
"We've taken care of that."  
  
"Oh, yeah? How?"  
  
"Your boss believes you're on vacation and the message on your machine supports that."  
  
"Great, just great."  
  
The expression on his face must really have been hopeless because Santiago put aside her file folder and sat forward in her seat.  
  
"Tell me about yourself," she said.  
  
"Read my file."  
  
"I did, but it doesn't tell me about you. It's just a bunch of statistics and dry information."  
  
"Why so interested all of a sudden?" he asked.  
  
"You ask too many questions," she huffed, reaching for her work.  
  
"Wait, wait," he said, waving a hand at her. "Sorry, I'm just...sorry. Put that back down and let's start over."  
  
Her lips curved in a small smile and he saw that she was a rather attractive woman. Petite and dark-haired, he wouldn't have taken her to be a CIA officer at first glance. The sharpness in her almond-shaped dark brown eyes told him of an observant and intellectual mind.  
  
"Hi, I'm Will Tippin," Will said jokingly.  
  
"Hi, Will. I'm Erika Santiago. It's nice to meet you."  
  
She grinned and it was like he was looking at a whole other person. Will decided he may be able to last in this small room for a little while longer.  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney didn't know why she was having such a hard time giving Vaughn a call. She felt like a teenager calling a boy for the first time--although, she didn't know too many teenagers who had their lives hanging on the balance because of one phone call, no matter how much it felt like it. Squaring her shoulders, Sydney picked up the phone next to her bed and dialed the number she'd memorized the second it had been given to her.  
  
Vaughn answered on the second ring and he was on his second hello when she managed to respond.  
  
"Hi, Michael," she said, making sure to use his first name in case someone was listening.  
  
"Sydney!" he exclaimed, recognizing her voice immediately. "I was starting to think I wouldn't hear from you."  
  
"I've been busy," she hedged. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."  
  
"Good. How about you?"  
  
"Busy," she repeated awkwardly. "Um...would you like to go to dinner sometime?"  
  
"How's tonight?"  
  
His eagerness embarrassed them both.  
  
"If that's alright," he added belatedly. "Sorry, Syd. I didn't mean to come out sounding like an overeager teenager."  
  
Sydney smiled. "I was just thinking the same thing about myself. It's like I'm sixteen again and calling Joe Douglas to see if he wanted to borrow my notes from math class."  
  
He laughed. "Lucky Joe."  
  
"Dinner tonight would be great."  
  
"How about I pick you up?"  
  
"Sure." She gave him her address. "Does seven sound alright?"  
  
"Yeah, that's fine. I'll see you then."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Sydney put the phone back in its cradle. Chewing on her bottom lip, she got up and opened her closet. She had to pick a dress that she would normally wear on a date.  
  
A date with Vaughn.  
  
Not quite believing that this was happening, Sydney had to force herself to focus on the task at hand, but she couldn't quite ignore the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. So much was riding on this, their lives being the most important.  
  
His life was in her hands and upon this realization, Sydney's hands clenched at her sides. Tears pooled in her eyes as the gravity of the situation hit her in full force. The words of warning she'd heard from Weiss, her father, Dixon, and Sloane rang loudly in her head. She had reassured them all that she would take care, and she believed she knew they would make it out of this, but self-doubt entered her psyche. Naïveité had always been Sydney's weakest point and it had been working against her while she'd concocted this ridiculous plan to date Vaughn. It was like something out of a horrible romance novel, and she couldn't believe she was going through with it. It was all her fault and if anything ever happened to Vaughn...  
  
Later, as she was putting various accessories in her purse, she added one extra item: a gun.  
  
* * *  
  
Weiss crossed his arms just as Jack clasped his hands in front of him. The older man had been the one to call him to meet, and he told Weiss about the situation with Sloane. Although, not an experienced handler, Weiss knew that Sydney would be out of commission until this charade with Vaughn was over. Devlin would not be happy about that, but they had to protect their assets--and their asses, Weiss added with a hint of black humor.  
  
But what Jack was asking now would be nearly impossible to do.  
  
"In order for this ridiculous plan you and Sydney concocted to work, Mr. Vaughn must be reinstated into active duty," he stated in no uncertain terms.  
  
"No one at the Agency, outside of our little circle that is, knows why Vaughn is out. Everyone else who knows him thinks he's on extended leave. Besides, if we let him go back to work, he'll give himself away."  
  
"SD-6 has assets in the CIA and Sloane will use them all to dig up information on Vaughn..."  
  
"We shredded his file on Sydney and I personally went through his desk to make sure there wasn't any mention of her in anything he owned."  
  
"Regardless," Jack said. "Despite what Sydney thinks, Sloane isn't letting her do this because he's had a moment of weakness; when the time is right, he'll have her use her relationship with Vaughn much in the same way that Sydney's mother used her relationship with me."  
  
"What about the other way around?" Weiss questioned, not missing the fleeting look of pain in Jack's eyes.  
  
Jack shook his head. "No, Sloane has this undying trust in Sydney, which she's used to her advantage at this point. He'll feed her some story about how he's trying to protect the CIA from itself, and use her to extract information from Mr. Vaughn."  
  
It made sense with what Weiss knew of Arvin Sloane. The man was a snake. "Have you told her this?" he asked.  
  
"No, not yet."  
  
Weiss shoved his hands in his pockets. "I doubt Mike's going to have a sudden recovery. Telling him the truth is the only way we can get this to work."  
  
"He's not the same man he was."  
  
"He cares about Sydney enough to do what we tell him."  
  
Jack didn't doubt that, but he didn't want to leave the fate of this situation in the hands of an amnesiac. "Talk to him and see what he knows," he instructed. "With what you learn, we'll decide what to do next."  
  
Weiss nodded and Jack left without a word of farewell before the younger man realized he'd accepted Jack's orders without question.  
  
"That guy definitely has an air of authority," he mumbled to himself.  
  
Weiss was walking back to his car when his cell phone rang. Seeing Vaughn's number on the display, he smiled.  
  
"Mike," he answered. "How are you doing?"  
  
"Great. Syd finally called me today."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Weiss had to fight to keep his voice steady. "What did she say?"  
  
"She asked me out, actually," Vaughn said smugly.  
  
"You must have been an impression on her."  
  
"So, I guess we didn't date before huh?"  
  
"Nope. Listen, do you wanna go get a drink or something tonight?"  
  
"I can't. I'm picking her up at seven."  
  
"Oh. Where are you taking her?"  
  
"Rosalina's," Vaughn answered. "It's a nice Italian place."  
  
"Well, have fun."  
  
"Don't sound too excited, Eric."  
  
"Sorry. I just want you to be sure you know what you're doing."  
  
Silence greeted him. Weiss was afraid he'd overstepped his boundaries and he wracked his brain for a way to fix things.  
  
"Have we had this conversation before?" Vaughn asked and Weiss could read the frown in his voice.  
  
"We'll talk later," Weiss said.  
  
"Alright. See ya."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Weiss pocketed his phone and got into the car. Things were happening too fast and he was beginning to feel overwhelmed. He picked up his phone again and called the office. Someone had to be at Rosalina's to make sure that things would go smoothly. He didn't think he could handle anything else happening that day. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven  
  
Francie watched Sydney race around the apartment, gathering random things that she wasn't even sure her friend really needed. A pen, a rubber band, even a small box of matches were clutched in Sydney's hand as she ran back to her room.  
  
"How many times have you gone out with Michael?" she called out.  
  
"Three times," Sydney answered distractedly.  
  
"Then how come you're still running around here like a chicken with her head cut off?"  
  
"I don't know!"  
  
Francie laughed amusedly. "He's THAT good, is he?"  
  
"I haven't slept with him, Francie."  
  
"But you want to."  
  
Sydney's silence was answer enough.  
  
"Atta girl, Syd!!" Francie exclaimed, jumping to her feet.  
  
The doorbell rang and Francie beat Sydney to the door. She hadn't met Michael yet and she was curious to meet the guy that was making her friend run around in circles. When she got her first look at him, she understood immediately why Sydney was in such a state.  
  
"Hi," she said, holding out a hand and smiling so hard her cheeks started to hurt. "I'm Francie."  
  
"Hi, Francie," Vaughn said, smiling back. "I'm Mike."  
  
She stepped aside and he walked past her into the house. Checking him out quickly before he turned around, Francie decided she liked what she saw. Dressed casually in jeans and a navy blue sweater, he looked fabulous and she could only imagine how he looked in a suit--or, she thought devilishly, less than that.  
  
"I'm glad that I finally got to meet you," she said. "I wanted to meet the man who could make Sydney freak out like she is."  
  
"I am not freaking out!" Sydney protested, coming out of her room.  
  
Vaughn reached out for her and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. The smile on Sydney's face was small, but Francie could see the glow in her soft brown eyes. One hand came up to rest gingerly on Vaughn's chest as he hugged her to his side. Francie's heart warmed at the sight--Sydney was happy.  
  
Then to her surprise, Sydney stepped out of Mike's embrace, her expression shuttering. She bent to pick up her purse, but Francie could see something was wrong. Fortunately, Mike didn't appear to think anything was amiss. When Sydney straightened, he took her hand in his, but Francie could see Sydney was starting to mentally pull away from him. She chalked it up to wariness, considering what had happened with Danny, and she hoped Sydney would be able to work past it in order to stay with this man. Although, Francie hadn't known him for more than five minutes, he looked like the good sort. There was something in his face that appealed to her, and it wasn't just because he was good-looking.  
  
"So what are you going to be doing tonight?" she asked.  
  
"Dinner and a movie," Sydney said.  
  
"Nice. Have a good time!"  
  
"We will."  
  
"It was nice meeting you, Francie," Mike said as Sydney opened the door. "We should all go out to dinner sometime."  
  
"I would like that. See you later, Syd."  
  
The couple left and Francie went back to the book she was reading. It took her a while to get back into the story for her mind was on what she'd seen that day. She made a mental note to have a talk with Sydney about opening up to Mike. She deserved happiness, but Francie was afraid she would keep herself from it because of a need to protect herself from more hurt. God knew she'd had enough of that.  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney wanted nothing more than to take the butter knife in Vaughn's hand and jab it into her eye just to be able to get out of there. The past two times they'd gone out, she'd been keeping her distance from him, not even kissing him on the lips. When he'd kissed her that afternoon in front of Francie, chaste as it was, she'd felt it as powerfully as that first brief kiss they'd shared after the disaster at the pub. If a small little peck made her react like that, she was afraid of what might happen if they really kissed. Kissed the way she knew he wanted to every time they parted for the night. She saw the confusion on his face when she merely said good night, but gentleman that he was, he didn't say a word about it. However, she didn't know how much longer she could keep this up.  
  
That problem aside, she was having a great time dating Vaughn. There were moments when she forgot that this was part of the web of lies that made up her life, and she simply enjoyed being with him. They spent the time talking, sharing experiences. His memory was coming back in fits and spurts, and he told her what he remembered. She shared memories of her childhood--the happier ones.  
  
The movie they saw was a romantic comedy and Vaughn took advantage of their close quarters to hold her hand. He didn't let go until they went back to the car. Sydney felt the tension mounting and she knew there was no way she could avoid the inevitable at this point, so she spent the drive back to her home by preparing herself. When Vaughn turned the car off and turned towards her, she thought she was ready. Her breath came out in tiny puffs as he tilted her chin towards him, and she was sure he would kiss her now, but then he frowned and leaned away from her.  
  
"I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to, Syd," he said, not able to keep the hurt from his voice.  
  
"It's not you, Vaughn." She'd reverted back to calling him that, saying that she liked its sound for the benefit of anyone listening.  
  
"Yeah." He clearly didn't believe her.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, on the edge of tears. "Thank you for tonight."  
  
Then, Sydney did the hardest thing she ever had to do.  
  
She got out of the car.  
  
Nearly running to the door, she searched her purse for her keys. When he came up behind her she had them in her grasp. With a steady hand, he put the key in the lock for her. She didn't turn around and he put his arms around her from behind, making her lean back against him.  
  
"I can wait, Syd," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "I'll wait for you."  
  
His words surprised and saddened her. She put her hands over his and held them tightly, making her decision.  
  
"Would you like to come in?"  
  
She could feel his body tense and he let go of her. Turning her around to face him, she saw that a sad smile was on his face.  
  
"Not tonight," he said, caressing her cheek with a gentle hand. "Sleep well."  
  
Frozen to the spot, she watched him drive away. Any other man, he would have been inside with her now, but now Vaughn. He was too honorable, too kind, and he cared about her too much. His rejection didn't hurt her, but it did touch her, and she realized then the extent of her love for him. She loved him and that made things hard. She wished she had never picked him up that night, wished she'd had the strength to keep her distance.  
  
She turned, her heart heavy, and put her key in the lock when a set of footprints drew her attention. At first, her defenses came up, but then she recognized who they belonged to.  
  
"Dad," she said. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Just checking up on you. Did you have a good time tonight?"  
  
"Yes. He's good company."  
  
Even in the dim light of the street lamps, Jack could see the tears on her cheeks. "Why the tears?"  
  
Her eyes were shooting warning at him, but he merely raised his hand, showing her the signal jammer disguised as a pen. Her eyes looked beyond him to the street and she saw that it was clear of any cars.  
  
"We're safe," he assured her.  
  
"Would you like to come in?"  
  
"No. It's late. Would you like to have breakfast tomorrow?"  
  
She managed a smile. "Sara's Deli?"  
  
"Yes. I'll meet you there."  
  
"Sure, Dad. Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight, Sydney."  
  
He walked off and she finally got into her house. Sighing, Sydney swiped at her cheeks and went to her room. She felt like she'd just gotten back from a particularly harrowing mission and to have it just be a date with Vaughn spoke volumes. Ending it would be the wise thing to do, and she could easily blame it on not being over Danny should anyone ask, but the thought of doing that made her stomach churn. Angrily tossing her purse in one corner, Sydney sat on the edge of her bed and covered her face with her hands.  
  
* * *  
  
"Things are weird," Vaughn said hesitantly, turning his coffee cup around and around on the table. "There are times when I'm sure she's shutting me out, distancing herself. I don't understand it."  
  
Weiss was sympathetic. Vaughn looked as hangdog as he usually did with all things Sydney. Some things never changed.  
  
"Sydney is a complex woman," Weiss said, waving his spoon in the air. "You know, before the whole memory loss thing, you were in the same boat you're in now. I guess it was wishful thinking of my part that you'd be able to shake her."  
  
"From the second time I first laid eyes on her, I knew there was something between us. I didn't remember things that we've done together, but I remembered feelings I had for her. There are some things you can't forget, Eric."  
  
"I noticed that. Think about it though, is she worth it? You've gone out four times and you haven't even gotten to first base!"  
  
"It's not all physical," Vaughn said, a reluctant smile on his face.  
  
"You're telling me that doesn't bother you?" Weiss raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Hell, no. It bothers me so much that I haven't been able to get a good night's sleep since last week. It's just part of the problem. Do these pants make me look fat? Is that why she doesn't like me?"  
  
Weiss let out a guffaw and Vaughn covered his smile by taking a sip of coffee.  
  
"All joking aside," he continued, "Is there something about Sydney I should know about? A reason why she's fighting this thing with me."  
  
His friend didn't say anything, the gaiety in his eyes fading.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"A couple years ago, Sydney was engaged to a guy named Daniel Hecht."  
  
Not taking his eyes off Vaughn's face, Weiss could see him trying to make a connection.  
  
"That name sounds familiar..." His eyes stared sightlessly at his coffee cup for a few seconds, and then his face paled. "He died, didn't he? It had something to do with work..."  
  
"Yeah, he died. He was killed."  
  
"He wasn't in the CIA." Vaughn was talking more to himself than to his companion. "He died because of Sydney, because she's in the CIA."  
  
"Let's go for a walk," Weiss said, leaving a ten on the table.  
  
They went out into the clear Fall night and Weiss buttoned up his light coat. It was starting to get chilly, though it wouldn't get that much colder.  
  
"What's the story?" Vaughn demanded. "Barnett's keeping her mouth shut about the details of my work, and now that I think about it, so are you. Syd and I just talk about normal day-to-day things. She told me, no work talk while we're out. I think I understand why. It wasn't because she wanted to have fun..."  
  
"Don't be angry with her," Weiss said, though he wasn't quite sure why he was standing up for Sydney. "I mean, I'm sure part of the reason was because she wanted to get to know the civilian Michael Vaughn better, not hang out with CIA Officer Vaughn some more. But she also has to protect you from yourself. You're right, there's a lot more to you, to me, and to Sydney than meets the eye, but we can't suddenly lay it all out at your feet."  
  
"I've heard that already," Vaughn said impatiently. "Is there anything about Sydney, or anything about my relationship with Sydney that I should know about?"  
  
"What do you remember?"  
  
Vaughn's forehead crinkled as he thought. "I remember meeting her in, well, it looks like a small clinic or something. Also, in this big, dark room full of crates and boxes...a warehouse, maybe? What conversations I've remembered involve my..my father and some guy named Rimbaldi. My father isn't Rimbaldi, is he?"  
  
The absurdity of the question would have made Weiss laugh if the situation was any different. "No. Rimbaldi is the name of a prophet. What do you know of your father?"  
  
A flash of anger with a touch of sadness flickered in Vaughn's eyes. "He was killed in the line of duty. Killed by a KGB agent."  
  
"Did your mother tell you this or did you know?"  
  
"I knew."  
  
Weiss decided Vaughn had to know. "Sydney's mother..."  
  
"She killed him," Vaughn interrupted, shocked, his words coming out in a rush. "She murdered my father. I remember telling Sydney and...comforting her. We thought it was her father at first, but then he told us it was her mother. Her mother...her mother is the reason I lost my memory."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Vaughn had to stop walking as a wave of dizziness hit him. Images of rushing water and Sydney's face as seen through a small window ran through his mind. He sat down on a bench and buried his face in his hands.  
  
"My life is a soap opera," he said, trying for levity, but failing miserably.  
  
"Yeah, it is." Weiss sat next to him. "You still want to date her?"  
  
He didn't even hesitate. "Yes, I do. It wasn't her fault."  
  
Weiss sighed. "You're too much of a soft touch, Mike."  
  
"I know. And I think it'll probably get me killed someday."  
  
"I'm not going to argue with you there. It almost did."  
  
Vaughn glanced sideways at Weiss. "I did a lot for her, didn't I?"  
  
"Yeah, you did."  
  
"Made life hard for you, didn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, it did."  
  
"Well, Eric, I don't think anything's going to change."  
  
Despite himself, Weiss laughed. "Yeah, I don't think so either."  
  
They lapsed into a comfortable silence.  
  
"I told her I would wait until she's ready," Vaughn said quietly.  
  
"You're a good man, Mike," Weiss said, his tone almost apologetic. "I just hope you know what you're doing."  
  
Lips thinned worriedly, Vaughn clasped his hands together. "Me, too." 


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve  
  
Sloane read over the reports from agents he sent out to follow Sydney on her dates with Michael Vaughn. The reports were so descriptive that he felt like he was reading from a novel, but the agents he sent out were green so they had no yet learned the finer points of notetaking. This was his way of training them. He was sure Sydney knew she was being followed, but she never tried to make contact with the agents.  
  
He sat back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers as he thought. According to the reports, which tracked Sydney from the second she left her home either to pick Mr. Vaughn up or already with him until she went back in, the lovebirds had never shared a kiss. Sloane was no romantic, but he was realistic. If in fact Sydney was looking for companionship and wanted it with CIA Officer Vaughn, he expected them to have slept together at this point. Yet, they hadn't so much as shared a kiss. Since he'd given Sydney his blessing, he'd been regretting the decision. It was a moment of weakness and she'd said the right thing by asking him to try to have what he had with Emily. Now, it appeared that something strange was going on and he had to do something about it in order to maintain SD-6's, and Sydney's, cover.  
  
It would be a dangerous thing to arrange for the death of CIA personnel, and so he racked his brain to try to find another alternative. He did not want to cause Sydney more pain, sure that one more incident like that of her fiance would push her over the edge and he would lose one of his best agents, but if he could not contain this problem...  
  
* * *  
  
"Dad, I made a mistake," Sydney sighed, closing her eyes painfully.  
  
"That doesn't matter now. What matters is how you handle this situation from now on," Jack said calmly, the voice of reason.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Sydney. It's been a tough month for you. After the ordeal with your mother and now this...you're only human."  
  
"Is that why Sloane hasn't sent me out on any missions?"  
  
"Partly. You were wavering before any of this happened so he just wants to give you a break."  
  
"Are we talking about the same man?" Sydney snorted. "When was the last time Sloane ever gave anyone a break?"  
  
"I asked him to," Jack admitted hesitantly.  
  
Sydney threw her father a sharp look. "You did?"  
  
"I...I didn't want to put you at risk. You're not...you...you're not ready for missions," he stammered.  
  
Sydney found her father's concern touching. The look on his face was embarrassed and he looked everywhere but at her. She reached across the table and took his hand, smiling.  
  
"Thanks, Dad. I did need the time off."  
  
"Besides, I thought that becoming involved with Mr. Vaughn would prove to be a distraction you don't need."  
  
"That it did."  
  
"Why, Sydney?" Jack sighed. "What ever possessed you to slip up like this?"  
  
"Weakness."  
  
"No, no, I don't think it was that. You're anything but weak."  
  
"Thanks, Dad, but Vaughn is my weakness...and at the same time my strength."  
  
"You realize nothing can come out of this relationship. You will either lose him or your lives, Sydney. I believe that there is no decision to be made. If you care about him...you have to do this."  
  
Sydney blew out a breath, her eyes dry but a pain blossoming in the region of her heart. "Yes. It'll be over soon."  
  
* * *  
  
Vaughn entered his apartment for the first time since being released from the hospital. To his surprise, his plants were still alive. He stepped in, Weiss at his heels, when a squat though adorable bulldog came barreling out of the kitchen to throw himself at Vaughn's legs.  
  
"Donovan!" he exclaimed, the name coming to his lips easily. "I can't believe it!"  
  
"I took care of him," Weiss said, stepping around his friend and glancing around the apartment. "He missed you."  
  
Vaughn rubbed Donovan's face, laughing as the dog licked every part of his master he could reach.  
  
"Man, I can't believe I forgot about you," he said.  
  
"Your mom wouldn't let the dog into the house," Weiss said, taking his suit jacket off. "He's been king of the castle for the past months and I think he enjoyed it. He did miss you though. I never thought a dog with a mug like that could look more disappointed, but every time I walked through the door, I swear it looked like he was close to tears."  
  
Vaughn was still on the floor with Donovan when Sydney walked through the door and she nearly tripped on him. Steading herself by putting her hands on his shoulders, she seemed distracted by her surroundings. Weiss hadn't been too excited upon learning that she was coming along, but didn't protest. He watched her walk around the apartment, her hand occassionally reaching out to touch some knick-knack or something else. Vaughn stopped playing with Donovan and he straightened, watching her as well.  
  
"You like it?" he asked, his voice taking on a husky tone that Weiss hadn't heard before.  
  
"I do," she replied, turning her head to smile at him. "It's very you."  
  
He went to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "Let's take this tour together."  
  
Weiss cooled his heels in the living room, feeling like a third wheel. Donovan stopped at his feet, tongue hanging out as he looked up at him. Weiss got down on one knee and patted his head.  
  
Trying to ignore the urge to throw herself into Vaughn's arms, Sydney walked through his apartment with him, hesitating slightly when they reached the bedroom. He threw her an amused look, but didn't say anything, walking in and leaving her to stand in the doorway. Decorated in navy blues and grays, she thought it was exactly what she expected out of him.  
  
"I dated an interior decorator," he said vaguely, running a hand along the oak dresser. "She did the place for free. I think she was planning to move in."  
  
"I'll be in the living room," she said.  
  
"No, I'm done. I'll come with you."  
  
He reached for her hand and she slipped it into his grasp. Weiss was waiting for them in the living room.  
  
"Want to grab a bite?" he asked them.  
  
"Sure," Vaughn answered and he turned to Sydney. "Why don't you invite Francie and we can make this a foursome?"  
  
"Hey, no matchmaking," Weiss warned. "Is she cute though?"  
  
Sydney rolled her eyes at him and Vaughn laughed. She picked up the phone and dialed Francie's cell phone number.  
  
"Are you busy tonight?" she asked when Francie picked up the phone.  
  
"Nope. Why? Did Mike get sick or something?"  
  
"No. We want you to come out to dinner with us."  
  
"Oh, definitely! I'll meet you whereever you're going."  
  
"Where are we going?" Sydney asked the two men.  
  
"There's a small place nearby called The Red Rose," Vaughn suggested. "I remember that they make great hamburgers."  
  
Sydney told Francie and hung up. The trio made their way downstairs, Weiss taking note that Vaughn couldn't seem to go more than five minutes without touching Sydney as he now put an arm around her waist. He could only imagine what would happen when all this was over.  
  
They got a table quickly enough and Francie walked in ten minutes later. Sydney smiled as Vaughn introduced Francie to Weiss, for a moment forgetting that all this was just part of the web of lies her life was made up of now. Then, she spotted one of Sloane's lapdogs nearby and the smile faded from her face.  
  
One more week, she told herself. One more week and I'll end it. It's for his own good.  
  
"So, Weiss, do you work at the bank, too?" Francie was asking.  
  
"Yeah, I do," Weiss lied easily. "But I'm not nearly the superstar that Sydney is...or Mike for that matter."  
  
"With all the work she puts in, she better be a superstar," Francie said, nudging Sydney with her elbow.  
  
"It's a tough business," Vaughn agreed.  
  
They chatted easily enough and dinner was delicious. They were four young people meeting for dinner and it was all so...normal. Sydney took a mental snapshot of their table, and memorized how she was feeling so that when things got back to the way they were she'd have something to keep her going. This was the life she wanted, when all things precious to her were close and safe.if only.  
  
She glanced sideways at Vaughn and caught him looking back at her. He smiled, his green eyes glittering with something she didn't even want to guess at, and she smiled back. He put his hand over hers and without thinking, she turned hers over and twined their fingers together. He squeezed her hand as he continued chatting with Weiss and Francie. Sydney decided then and there that until this was over, she would take what she could get.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
"That was fun," Vaughn said as they entered his apartment. "Weiss and Francie really hit it off."  
  
Sydney grinned. "Yeah, they did. I didn't think Weiss was a blusher..."  
  
They laughed companionably and Vaughn reached for her, folding her in his arms. She looked up at him, and he felt like he was drowning in her eyes.  
  
"Sydney," he murmured, leaning in.  
  
Placing one hand on the back of his neck, Sydney urged him forward and their lips met, clinging. It started out slow and gentle, but as the minutes passed grew more fevered and heated. When he stopped kissing her long enough to press his lips against her neck, she let out a low moan and clutched at him, for fear she would slide to the floor. His hands grabbed at her shirt and one found its way underneath to rest on the small of her back. The feel of his hand on her bare skin made her gasp. Vaughn couldn't seem to get enough of her, nor her of him, and they didn't know how long they stood there until Donovan's barks made them break apart. He jumped up, putting two paws on Vaughn's legs, barking loudly.  
  
Sydney wavered and Vaughn put a steadying hand on her arm as he struggled to catch his breath. They stared at each other and the look on his face made something inside of her tighten. His eyes darkened with sensuality as his gaze fell on her lips, swollen from his kisses. She put the back of her hand against her mouth, but couldn't break eye contact with him.  
  
"My God," he murmured, raising a shaky hand to caress her cheek. "I knew it would be good, Syd, but nothing prepared me for that."  
  
"Me either," she said, taking a step towards him.  
  
"If you don't want this to go any farther, you should leave," he warned her. "But I hope that you don't."  
  
"Then, I won't."  
  
He grinned rakishly and took her hand. She laughed happily as they raced to the bedroom, the door slamming shut before Donovan could come in.  
  
In the darkness of Vaughn's room, she found her way into his arms. She sighed as their lips met again, his hands going back underneath her shirt to rest splayed on her back. She wound her arms tightly around his neck as he explored her mouth. In response, she pressed herself against him, every inch of her body touching his, and she groaned when she felt how much he wanted her.  
  
"You're sure?" he murmured against her lips.  
  
"I'm sure," she replied, pulling her sweater over her head. "I need this, Vaughn, and I've wanted you for a long time."  
  
He grabbed her and held her tightly, kissing every part of her bare skin that he could reach. She tugged at his clothes, wanting to feel him against her. They broke apart long enough to get his sweater over his head and she ran her hands on his hair roughened chest before pressing a kiss to it. He sat down on the bed and drew her down next to him. Together, they laid back, and he moved to cover her.  
  
"I love you, Syd," he said tenderly, brushing the hair from her face.  
  
She didn't speak, couldn't say the words, so she pulled his head down to her and showed him how much she loved him too. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen  
  
Sydney woke up to a ray of light shining down on her face. She opened one eye and saw that the curtains hadn't been closed all the way. Needless to say, they hadn't slept much the night before and she was feeling the lack of sleep now. Turning, she threw her arm over Vaughn's torso, burying her face in his shoulder.  
  
"Mornin', Sleepyhead," he whispered, amusement in his voice.  
  
She only mumbled something unintelligible and put a hand over his mouth. She could feel his smile against her palm and couldn't stop an answering smile from spreading across her own face. He turned on his side so that he could face her and she looked at him with eyes still swollen from sleep. Looking alert and amused, she guessed that he'd probably been awake for a while.  
  
"I thought you weren't a morning person," he said conversationally as if they weren't lying there stark naked with only a thin sheet covering them both.  
  
"Good for you," she said, yawning. "Would it be too much to ask for five more minutes?"  
  
"It's nearly ten."  
  
"Ten minutes then since it's so early."  
  
"Will you get up if I make you breakfast?"  
  
"You have groceries?"  
  
"Oh." He paused. "I'm going to go to the corner market and grab some stuff. Will you be up when I get back?"  
  
"Umm hmm."  
  
He kissed her forehead and rolled out of bed. Sydney spread herself out on the bed and promptly fell back asleep so she was unaware of Vaughn standing at the doorway after he'd dressed, watching her with a tender look on his face. Unable to help himself, he put one hand on her bare back and kissed her shoulder, his eyes not leaving her face. Then, he hurried out the door and jogged to the market.  
  
Whistling as he shopped, Vaughn was done in five minutes flat and was on his way back when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He turned around slowly, his expression neutral as his eyes studied the street. It was then did he hear the roar of a van racing up the street. Dropping his bag, he took off on a dead run, thinking only of Sydney. But he was no match for the white unmarked van that easily caught up to him. A large man with a black mask jumped out and grabbed him. Vaughn used every move he could remember but it was to no avail. The man blocked them with an expertise that Vaughn could not match. Still, he fought and for his efforts, got a blow to the face that knocked him out cold.  
  
"You didn't kill him did you?" the other masked man in the driver's seat asked as his cohort dragged Vaughn's unconscious body into the van.  
  
"No," was the curt answer. "Get going."  
  
* * *  
  
The nondescript looking man across the street immediately jumped out of his car as he watched his target get bundled away. He reached for cell phone and nearly dropped it in his rush.  
  
"Target is lost," he barked into the phone. "Search city for white van, license number Bravo Echo Foxtrot one six niner."  
  
"This isn't a military operation, Kelly," returned the smooth voice on the other line. "Tail them. I'll get others on it."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney woke up with a jolt. She knew immediately that she'd slept too long and that the apartment was too quiet. Fear gripped her and she sat up, just as she heard the front door open. Gathering the sheet around her, she raced out of the room only to stop dead in her tracks when she found Weiss standing there. He didn't seem concerned with her state of undress, but Sydney felt the heat rise to her cheeks...though that was not the foremost problem on her mind.  
  
Something was very wrong.  
  
"Where's Vaughn?" she demanded.  
  
"He's safe, which is more than I can say for you," Weiss retorted. "Get dressed. We've got some explaining to do."  
  
Knowing what time was always of the essence, Sydney threw on her jeans from the night before, but pulled on one of Vaughn's sweatshirts that he left for her. She opened the door and marched out.  
  
"What happened?" she asked, pulling her hair back.  
  
"We'll talk in the car," he replied, holding the front door open for her.  
  
They walked out in silence, Sydney's breath coming out in small puffs as she tried not to panic or let worry stain her judgment. If something had happened to Vaughn, she needed to be at her sharpest.  
  
Only when they were a block away from the apartment building did Weiss talk.  
  
"Early this morning, your father learned that Sloane put a hit out on Vaughn. He immediately called your cell phone, but it was off and Vaughn's phone has been disconnected. Then, he called me. We acquired some equipment and grabbed Vaughn this morning which was in the nick of time because your dad saw someone he knew driving around the corner just as we were leaving."  
  
"Where's Vaughn now?"  
  
"We brought him to the closest safehouse we could find. He's with your friend Will."  
  
"Does he know?" Sydney asked quietly.  
  
"No." Weiss hesitated. "Your dad had to knock him out so I haven't been able to talk to him. I had to get you."  
  
Sydney rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes painfully. "I only wanted to help him."  
  
"If 'help' in your world means the same as 'kill', then you sure are on your way."  
  
It took an immense amount of will power not to slam his head into the steering wheel. "Weiss, I do not need your crap right now!"  
  
He glanced at her. "Sorry, Syd. I didn't mean it. I'm just...this is...Christ."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He must have seen something on her face because he put a hand on her back. "Let it out before you talk to him."  
  
"No," she said obstinately, pressing her lips together. "I'm done crying. I'm going to fix this and I'm going to protect him."  
  
"Good cause he's gonna need it."  
  
"What about his mother?"  
  
"We have her in protective custody."  
  
They reached the safehouse and Weiss pulled into the driveway.  
  
"Ready?" he asked her.  
  
"I was trained to be ready," she replied steadily.  
  
A young agent answered the door and Sydney immediately spotted Will. He stared at her in shock and she saw an array of emotions flicker through his face before he stood up.  
  
"It's about damned time," he spat.  
  
"Will...I'm sorry..."  
  
"Save it, Syd."  
  
A sound to her left caught Sydney's attention and Vaughn appeared at the doorway, holding a bag of ice to his right eye.  
  
"Syd," he breathed.  
  
She went to him, holding him tightly. "You're okay."  
  
Behind him, Jack stood up from his seat at the kitchen table. Sydney extracted herself from Vaughn's arms and faced her father.  
  
"Dad," she said.  
  
"Sydney."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He nodded and sat back down. He glanced at Vaughn, silently telling Sydney that it was time to tell him.  
  
"Is there a quiet room?" Sydney asked Weiss.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" Will demanded.  
  
"Later, Will," Sydney said.  
  
"Fine. I'll wait. I've been waiting for the past month. Glad to see you healed up nice, Buddy."  
  
Vaughn only looked at Will, searching his memory for a name to match the face.  
  
"My friend Will," Sydney filled in, reading his look. "Weiss, the quiet room..."  
  
"In the back," Weiss said. "That shed."  
  
Sydney took Vaughn's hand and led him out. Will watched him, frowning darkly.  
  
"Mr. Bristow, can you explain any of this...?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Dammit," Will cursed under his breath and he sat back down on the couch.  
  
Outside, Sydney sat in one of the uncomfortable folding chairs they had set up around a cheap card table. Vaughn sat across from her. The three lines between his eyebrows that Sydney had come to recognize appeared and she had to stop herself from reaching across the table to take his hand.  
  
"Your dad packs a punch," he said.  
  
"What has he told you?"  
  
"Just that you have some things to straighten out for me." He clenched his fists. "I do have one question. What happened between us...none of it is part of some grand plan, is it? You're not...leading me on, are you?"  
  
"What makes you ask that?"  
  
"I told you I loved you last night and you didn't answer me."  
  
"I made love to you three times, Vaughn. What answer do you want?" she couldn't help retorting.  
  
"I just wanted to hear the words, Sydney," he said, a tone of disgust in his voice. "I didn't say them because I was looking for an easy lay."  
  
She put her hands up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."  
  
He nodded curtly. "So, what's the answer to my question?"  
  
"I'm not leading you on, Vaughn." She took a deep breath. "I didn't answer you last night because I'm not free to love you. What we had...it was...a stolen moment."  
  
And then she went on to tell him the truth. All of it.  
  
As he listened, he realized he knew a lot of what she was saying, he just didn't know how it all fit together until now. Still, it didn't make things easier and he felt a small amount of anger at the hoops she'd jumped through just to keep all this from him. He knew it was because she wanted to protect him, but it also made him wonder if he knew her at all. He watched her speak, watched the stillness in her eyes, and felt like he was looking at someone else altogether. In that moment, he hated what they did, hated the lives that they led, and wanted nothing more to do with it. If the stress from it had caused amnesia, he wondered how much longer he would have lasted if he hadn't been given this chance to have a new beginning of sorts. Somehow, he doubted it would have been for much longer. Not when wanting this woman had made him leap into the fire more than once. He loved her more than life itself, even now, but something stopped him from taking her hand, from softening his countenance.  
  
Sydney could sense Vaughn pulling away from her and she wanted to throw her arms around him, beg him to understand, but she didn't. She finished speaking and waited for some kind of response from him, but he stayed silent and still like a statue. Only his eyes were alive, sparking and glittering with something she couldn't name as he stared at her.  
  
"Well, now a lot of things make sense," he said simply. "You took a big chance 'dating' me."  
  
"You understand why I did."  
  
"Yes. To hide the truth from Dixon."  
  
"Not that I don't have feelings for you..."  
  
"I know, Sydney."  
  
He stood, the chair scraping back loudly in the silent room. "Let's go back. I think your friend Will wants to talk to you."  
  
She nodded and followed him out the door.  
  
At the house, Weiss watched them come back. He noticed the distance between them, and saw the lines bracketing Vaughn's mouth, his face tight with a mixture of anger and sadness. Sydney was staring at the ground, her lips a straight line as she walked a little behind him.  
  
"Lover's quarrel?" Will asked snidely, coming up next to Weiss.  
  
Weiss merely looked at him and opened the sliding door to let them in. Will immediately pounced on Sydney, a month's worth of frustration and hurt coming to the surface. Vaughn pushed past them and disappeared into the kitchen, Weiss close at his heels.  
  
"I can't believe you left me here, Syd," Will railed. "I haven't heard a word from you, from anybody since I got here!"  
  
"I know, Will, but a lot's happened since the mess in Taipei."  
  
"You weren't so busy that you couldn't get yourself a new boyfriend."  
  
She winced. "It's more complicated than that."  
  
"Explain it to me. God knows I've got nothing but time."  
  
"You know about me and my father...that's already too much. Let it lie, Will. It'll get you out of here faster," she said tiredly.  
  
Will's anger subsided. He saw how tense Sydney was and how her bright brown eyes had lost their luster. This was all bigger than he was and he reached out to take her hand, his love for her forgiving her for what she did. She smiled her thanks, but her hand remained stiff under his.  
  
In the kitchen, Vaughn drank a glass of orange juice as he eyed the two men sitting at the kitchen table.  
  
"What now?" he asked.  
  
"We're going to take you to the house you had set up for Sydney," Weiss said.  
  
"I had a house set up?" Vaughn questioned, frowning.  
  
"Yes. If and when you got her out of SD-6, you were going to hole her up there until the coast was clear."  
  
"It's beautiful land," Vaughn murmured, his eyes focused on something Jack nor Weiss could see. "Flat, green. There's even a small stream that runs through the backyard."  
  
"That's it," Weiss said easily. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Is she coming?"  
  
Weiss studied his friend's face, saw the guarded look in his eyes, and wasn't sure whether he was all that happy about Vaughn's having troubles with Sydney.  
  
"Yes," Jack answered for him.  
  
"What about you?" Vaughn inquired. "Aren't you in danger too?"  
  
"Yes, but I need to stay," Jack replied with a no-nonsense tone. "Mr. Weiss, please get them prepared to leave. I will say good-bye to Sydney and then I'll go."  
  
"Will do."  
  
Jack went to his daughter and embraced her tightly. "Take care, Sydney."  
  
Fear made her widen her eyes. "Dad?"  
  
Before she could say anything more, he left the house, slamming the door behind him. Sydney started to go after him, but Weiss appeared at her side, a restraining hand on her arm.  
  
"What's going on?" she demanded.  
  
"You and Vaughn are going to disappear for a while."  
  
"First you tell me to end it with him and now you're going to send me off somewhere to be alone with him. You're a real tactical genius."  
  
Weiss ignored the barb, but couldn't ignore the stifled chuckle coming from the direction of the kitchen.  
  
"Let's go," he grumbled. "We have one more passenger to pick up."  
  
"Wait," Will said, moving to stand in their way. "You're leaving again? This is not fair."  
  
"Life isn't fair, Mr. Tippin," Weiss replied, sounding remarkably like Jack. "Now, unless you decide you want to stay here a little longer, I suggest you get out of the way."  
  
Will glared at him, but did move to the side. He put a hand on Sydney's arm, and she smiled sadly at him, saying nothing. Then, they left. 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen  
  
Jack walked into the office as if everything was normal. He had a file tucked under his arm and he went to his desk. He was taking a gamble by coming to work, but he had to risk it for Sydney. If he didn't show up, Sloane would immediately know that something didn't smell right-if he didn't already from the aborted assassination attempt. The thought of a hitman going after Sydney made Jack's blood run cold and he thought how easy it would be to simply walk into Sloane's office and blow the man away. But things were not that easy and to make things run according to his plan, he needed to play it safe. He had to. For Sydney.  
  
Checking he watch, he calculated that she was on the plane with her handler and his mother. The situation was so ridiculous that Jack couldn't believe it had gotten that far. It was a nightmare, but he knew how hard it was to stay away from someone you loved. He also knew how easily things could get out of control. Sydney was young, but he'd expected more from her. He respected Michael Vaughn, but he also had his youth working against him. Jack didn't doubt Vaughn die for Sydney, he just didn't want it to come to that. He didn't want to see the same look on his daughter's face that he'd seen once before when her fiancé had been killed. She was too young to have been through what she had.  
  
Before Jack could even sit at his desk, his phone rang and he knew that it was Sloane.  
  
"Yes?" he said.  
  
"Please come into my office," Sloane said, his tone brooking no argument.  
  
"I'm on my way."  
  
Jack dropped the file on his desk and buttoned his jacket as he walked back out his door. His face was as hard as granite, but his heart was beating fast. He met Sloane's equally stoic countenance with a cool look as he entered the other man's office. He didn't sit down, opting to stand with his hands clasped in front of him. Sloane didn't sit either. He went to stand next to his desk and they regarded each other silently. They weren't friends, but they did respect each other; Sloane because of Jack's ability, Jack because if he didn't, he and his daughter would be dead.  
  
"Sydney has disappeared," Sloane stated calmly.  
  
Never a man to show emotion, Jack allowed his mouth to open slightly to convey his surprise. "What do you mean disappeared?"  
  
"She can't be found. I've had people searching for her all day, but it's like she's dropped off the face of the Earth. Would it be stupid of me to ask you if you knew where she was?"  
  
"Yes, it would," was the response laced with venom. "I expected to see her here today. What happened to make her run?"  
  
Sloane didn't even hesitate. "I put a shooter on her tail. She spent the night with her CIA agent last night. I slipped by allowing her to date him and it got to be too dangerous to let it go for much longer."  
  
Jack bristled, something he didn't have to pretend. "You were going to make Sydney pay for your mistake. Not very professional, is it?"  
  
"You realize your life is in danger right now, don't you?" Sloane said matter-of-factly. "I'm not an idiot. You and Sydney may not be your average father and daughter, but you're an honorable man, Jack. You would make sure you knew what she was up to because of the danger she put herself in."  
  
"Why did you put a shooter on her instead of him?"  
  
"And have the CIA come after me? No. It was safer to take her out." Sloane smiled without humor. "What a man you are, to stand here and discuss an assassination attempt on your daughter without even breaking into a sweat."  
  
Jack took a step towards Sloane, towering over the shorter man and looking down his nose at him. "Don't tempt me, Arvin," he hissed. "She ran because she's a good operative and she knew something was going to happen to her. I'm not lying to you when I say I have no idea where she's run to, but I can't say I'm sorry she ran."  
  
"At least I know you have a heart."  
  
They stared at each other.  
  
"Everyone is after her," Sloane said, breaking eye contact. "I've put the word out. Every operative the Alliance has on its payroll is looking for her. She's not going to make it very far. I didn't say I wanted her back alive."  
  
"What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Your job. Can you still function after this nasty shock?"  
  
"I'm a professional."  
  
"Good. That'll be all."  
  
Jack nodded and went out the door. Things were progressing as he'd expected. He was too valuable an asset to Sloane, his skills and his contacts were too good to lose, but he would be watched like a hawk from now on. If SD-6 was to be taken down, it would have to be soon, or else all he, Sydney, and the CIA agents who had worked with them had achieved would all go to hell. As he racked his brain for solutions, he nearly ran into Dixon who had stood from his desk.  
  
"She's gone, isn't she?" he demanded.  
  
"Yes, she is."  
  
"Do you know where she is?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I think she was working for someone else."  
  
His words, spoken so calmly, nearly made Jack lose control of his emotions. He looked hard into Dixon's eyes.  
  
"Sydney is a patriot," he said forcefully. "She would never betray her country, Dixon. You know that as well as I do."  
  
"That doesn't mean she couldn't have been deceived. I agree with you. Sydney is as good as they come, but her perceptions can be manipulated as well. If my hunch is right, finding out who she worked for can put an end to all this."  
  
This was an unexpected problem and Jack thought quickly for a solution. Taking Dixon by the arm, he led the other man into his office. He took out his signal jammer from his jacket pocket and turned it on.  
  
"Listen to me. Things are happening that are beyond your control and understanding. If you go to Sloane with this information, you'll put us all in danger. Let me handle this."  
  
"I can help. I would do anything for Sydney."  
  
Vaguely, Jack wondered what it was in his daughter that instilled such loyalty in people.  
  
"You can help by keeping what you believe under wraps until this is over. The information is too sensitive, even for you. I'm asking you to trust me with this. She's my daughter and I would do anything to protect her."  
  
Dixon seemed to be sizing him up and Jack had to force himself to meet his eyes. He knew Dixon's devotion to his family outweighed everything else in his life, including this job. Jack was the opposite, sacrificing his relationship with Sydney to his job-but not anymore.  
  
"Alright," Dixon finally said. "But tread lightly, Jack. I'll be watching."  
  
As he left the office, Jack sagged against the wall. He took a moment to get himself together and then, straightened once more. There was work to be done and as always, time was working against him.  
  
* * *  
  
Geneviève did not enjoy flying. It was the reason why she hadn't been back to France in ages. As much as she missed her homeland, she hated flying more. It just didn't seem natural to her that a large man-made object was made to rise up in the air to soar above the clouds. Even birds were smart enough not to fly this high. It was a phobia she'd passed on to her son, though outwardly, he was handling it better than she was.  
  
Sydney could sense Vaughn's tenseness and see his mother's. She wanted to reach over and take his hand, but somehow didn't think it would be too welcome. He'd almost been able to get his mother to sit between them, but she'd protested the move, insisting that she wanted the aisle seat. He hadn't even bothered to hide his reluctance as he took the seat next to her. It was hard to believe that they'd spent the night before in each other's arms the way he was doing all he could to avoid touching her. His actions cut Sydney to the quick, but she took the pain the way she always did--quietly. She turned her attention to the blue skies and wispy clouds outside her window, pretending it was just another trip.  
  
Weiss had gotten them seats in the next available flight out to Montana and carted them off with only a soft 'good luck'. He disappeared into the crowd before they even boarded the plane. Sydney had never felt more helpless in her life, and regret made her want to curl up into a ball and cry her eyes out. She knew it was her selfishness that got them here. She'd wanted to be with Vaughn, wanted to make it all work out for them even though she knew better. Her love for him blinded her to the harsh realities that governed the way people in their line of work acted. Now, they were barely speaking and being shipped off to the middle of nowhere.  
  
The location was a blessing and a curse. It would be difficult to find them, but once found, they had nowhere to run. Weiss had given her and Vaughn a file folder full of information about the secluded homestead they were going to. Vaughn had set up a working ranch of sorts to provide good cover and they would be set up as the relatives of the owner, James Clancy, coming to visit. There were even profiles set up, Weiss mentioning that all this was Vaughn's doing even though he had no recollection of it. Vaughn and Sydney would be a married couple, Leo and Adrianne Warner, wanting to take a break from the big city and taking his mother, Claire Warner, along for the ride. It was simple enough.  
  
Before long, the plane was preparing for landing. As the regular shudders and noises went through the plane, Sydney heard Vaughn's mother take a sharp breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take her hand. Without looking at Sydney, he put a hand over hers. Feeling her heart warm at the touch, she turned her hand over and twined their fingers together. They didn't let go until they got the luggage carousel and he had to retrieve their luggage. Sydney tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as he pushed the cart with their bags--clothes all newly bought--partly for show, mostly because she needed to touch him. His mother trailed behind them, a small smile on her face.  
  
"There's our pickup," Vaughn murmured.  
  
A wiry man in a faded blue plaid shirt and equally faded black stetson holding a sign that said 'Warner' was standing near the exit. He saw them heading his way and he nodded in acknowledgement. He held out his hand to Vaughn when they reached him.  
  
"Eric told me you were coming," he said easily. "L.A.'s a bitch this time of year, isn't it?"  
  
Vaughn nodded at hearing the key phrase. "Yeah. We needed some time away. Thanks for meeting us here, Jim," Vaughn said.  
  
"Ladies," Jim said, touching the brim of his hat. "Follow me. I've got my car in front."  
  
Geneviève tucked her hand into Jim's proferred arm, leaving her son with his "wife". Sydney fixed an easy smile on her face and slid her hand into Vaughn's. They followed Jim out to his SUV. The two women got into the back while the men loaded up the suitcases.  
  
"What a nice man," Geneviève said.  
  
"He is."  
  
They talked about the weather and the ranch on the way there. It was a good forty-five minutes away and Sydney kept her eyes on the countryside, noting that Jim and Vaughn did the same. Jim's sharp gray eyes continuously glanced at the rearview mirror to make sure they weren't being followed, which would be very obvious on the dusty road that made up the last few miles of their journey.  
  
Jim pulled into the long drive leading up to a grand one level house sitting on top of a small hill. It overlooked the green land surrounding it, and Sydney immediately fell in love with it.  
  
"Oh, it's beautiful," she breathed, nose pressed up to the window.  
  
She caught Vaughn's eye on the side mirror and he smiled at her. "It is."  
  
They stopped in front of the house and they got out. The house was as spacious as the lands outside of it. The wood floors were polished until they shone and it seemed like they walked for miles until they reached their rooms. Vaughn and Sydney found themselves sharing one while Geneviève had one down the hall. Seeing Vaughn's slightly troubled expression as he put their bags down, Sydney felt her heart sink.  
  
"Um.I can go over to your mom's room at night if this is too uncomfortable for you," she murmured.  
  
Sighing, he reached for her and took her in his arms. She hugged him tightly, closing her eyes.  
  
"I'm just having a hard time letting the information settle in," he whispered. "I think I knew deep down that there was more to you than meets the eye, but I just didn't want to think about it. I can't even describe how I feel when I'm with you, Syd. I'm happy and I feel complete, cheesy as that sounds. I may have forgotten how we got here, but my heart doesn't. I love you. I always have. Don't think I'm angry. I'm not. I'm just."  
  
"Thank you," she said, kissing him. "I needed to hear that."  
  
He smiled at her and pulled away. "How about we unpack then take a tour of the place? Well, the house anyway."  
  
"Sounds good."  
  
Working in silence, they got their clothes put away, neither missing how domestic their actions were. Their clothes hung together in the closet and Sydney stared at them for a moment, a small smile on her face. It quickly disappeared when she remembered just why they were there. It was her fault. Squaring her shoulders, she moved to the hidden compartment in her suitcase and pulled out a handgun. Vaughn's lips tightened when he saw it, but he didn't say anything. He had one too. She put it and an extra magazine in the bedside drawer. What he didn't know was that she had another, smaller gun resting in the small of her back. What she didn't know was that he had a small knife in a sheath strapped around his ankle. It was something Weiss had insisted he have.  
  
Together, they walked out of the room just as Geneviève was emerging. For a second, Sydney thought she saw a strained expression on her face, but it was immediately hidden with a smile.  
  
"You two had the same idea as I did then," she said. "I hope Jim is not too busy to show us the grounds."  
  
"If he is, I'm sure we can do it ourselves," Vaughn said, putting an arm around his mother. He'd seen the same worry that Sydney had. "How are you holding up?"  
  
"Good," she said, patting his cheek. "I've been through worse."  
  
Jim was nowhere to be seen, but they ran into a cook and a cleaning woman- both employed by the CIA. For all intents and purposes, the ranch was run by CIA personnel, save for the ranch hands who had been given a background check before being hired. They were as safe as they could be, but that could easily change in the blink of an eye, as the three of them knew first hand. That thought tempered their walk through the house as Sydney noted at the windows were bulletproof. She made a mental map of the place in her mind, just in case. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen  
  
Weiss hadn't been able to have a good night's sleep since he'd gotten the call that Vaughn was in the hospital. All he had been able to think then was that he hadn't parted well with his friend, and he hoped they would have time to patch things up over a cold beer. But that hadn't happened, and now Vaughn was gone again, leaving him to fix things on his own.  
  
Weiss wasn't afraid of work or responsibility. He thrived under pressure and despite the fatigue that hit him every time he sat down, he never thought of quitting. He'd smoothed the way for Sydney and Vaughn, he'd made sure they would be safe from Sloane, and he was working around the clock to find a way to bring them back. That wasn't the problem that was making him want to throw in the towel. That problem was Jack Bristow telling him that they had to take SD-6 down within the next week did he feel like running far, far away.  
  
"There's no way Devlin would go for it," he argued, knowing it was futile from the stubborn look on Jack's face. "You are still an important figure in SD-6, even if we can't bring Sydney back in. We need to infiltrate the Alliance or else we'll never get the rest of the web down."  
  
"If we don't do this, Sydney, Mr. Vaughn, and his mother are as good as dead," Jack said simply. "Sloane won't stop until they're found and I'm in as much danger as she is until then. Don't tell me this hasn't occurred to you, Mr. Weiss. Considering the state things are in right now, I'm useless to the CIA. I'm suspended and if Sydney's not found, I'll be executed."  
  
There was no denying the logic. Weiss rubbed his face and closed his eyes, trying to focus his suddenly chaotic thoughts.  
  
"I'll get a team together that'll be ready to go in the next couple days. We'll study the information you've provided on SD-6's security and manpower. The people in there, the innocent ones, they cannot get any warning from you that anything is going to happen."  
  
"I'm not a rookie," Jack said scornfully.  
  
"I know," Weiss returned dryly. "I'm just telling you now that people will die, on both sides. People who believe that they're working for the good of their country will die, again on both sides."  
  
"I can deal with that. Can you?"  
  
"No.but I'll learn."  
  
Jack nodded curtly. "Good. You're doing an admirable job, better than I expected. This is going to be your greatest achievement, Mr. Weiss. I suggest you not fail."  
  
"Thanks for the pep talk."  
  
"It wasn't meant to be. I'm speaking to you as a father."  
  
Weiss looked up from his desk and saw the fear hovering in Jack's steely gaze, quickly disappearing beneath his immense control.  
  
"You'll get her back," he promised.  
  
"I better."  
  
* * *  
  
To have gotten to where he was, Sloane had to have a sixth sense about certain things. Danger, death, and all its cousins were on his mind at all times, his eyes constantly searching for signals to their coming. He was seeing those signs now. Sydney was as dangerous as her mother and father, and her disappearance was the beginning of the end. He didn't believe that Jack would let Sydney disappear without a trace without his knowledge of her whereabouts. Sloane tried to have him followed, but Jack was too good, and he'd lost the tail almost as soon as it had been put on him. The fact that Jack felt the need to do this raised alarms in Sloane's mind.  
  
It was why he had put into motion his exit strategy. Unbeknownst to anyone else in SD-6, and the Alliance for that matter, he had put together a small team of specialists for his own protection should his extraction become necessary. It crept closer with each passing hour, and he was almost ready to leave. But before then, he had to destroy the evidence. He felt some sadness at having to destroy all that he'd worked hard to build, but it had to be done. He couldn't allow nostalgia cloud his judgment. As much as he liked the people who worked for him, they were evidence, and thus had to be destroyed with the rest of it.  
  
The charges of C-4 planted underneath the building had not been touched since Cole's disastrous attempt at takeover, and he had armed them to explode in two days at eleven o'clock in the morning-the time when most employees would be in the building. Should anyone try to prevent the charges from going off, the C-4 would blow at the slightest hint at tampering. Naturally, Sloane was taking a chance by being in the office, but there was no reason for anyone to be tampering with the C-4 and he didn't want to draw suspicion by not showing up. He hardly ever took time off-though, after all this, he would have more time on his hands than he knew what to do with.  
  
Upon further introspection, he realized that he knew exactly what he would do with his time.  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney watched the sun set from the porch swing, a feeling of calm settling over her. The events in her life that had spun wildly out of control were a distant memory as she watched ribbons of orange and yellow streak the nearly cloudless sky. Land stretched out for what seemed liked forever and she took a deep breath of the clean, fresh air. The swing creaked as she rocked, but she didn't mind it. It only seemed natural that it did.  
  
As twilight crept up on her, she closed her eyes and tilted her face up. Unshed tears welled up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall, taking deep, slow breaths to try to find that peaceful place that she'd been in only moments before. But everything seemed to be catching up on her, and she realized that she didn't have the kind of emotional detachment her father had. God only knew that with the way she'd grown up, she could have easily become like him, but instead, she'd become the exact opposite. Fiery and passionate, she could only think that she'd taken after her mother. She felt everything and dealt with things using her heart. At least when the time was right.  
  
Behind her, the front door opened and she didn't have to turn around to know it was Vaughn. Everything inside of her seemed to know whenever he was close by, showing her just how strong their bond was. Without saying a word, he sat next to her, hands clasped loosely in his lap. She didn't know how long they stayed silent, but she didn't feel the need to speak. They'd said all that needed to be said.  
  
Almost.  
  
"I love you, you know," she whispered as the crickets began to chirp.  
  
"I know," was his simple reply.  
  
She reached across the space between them and put a hand over his. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips curve into a quiet smile. In that moment, she knew that through all the hardship they would face, having him at her side would keep her sane. It was possible that they would live their lives running from place to place, changing identities and never putting down roots, but it strengthened her to think that at least he would know who she really was. He'd always known.  
  
Geneviève started to open the front door to call them in to dinner, but something made her pause. They weren't touching, but she felt it in the air and her hand dropped to her side. She turned and went back to the kitchen to tell the cook to put their dinner in the oven for later.  
  
Later, when the moon sat high in the sky, Vaughn stirred. He turned his head and reached out to tuck Sydney's hair behind her ear.  
  
"Let's go to bed," he said.  
  
She smiled and took the hand he held out. Together, they went back into their house and into their room. 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen  
  
The team of eight crept silently into the building under the cloak of darkness. They had been briefed three times that day and had run through the scenario a dozen times before finally going to fulfill their mission. Their leader, an experienced field agent, led the way, a map of their targets stored in his head. His automatic rifle tucked under his arm, he signaled for one of the more technically inclined members of his team to go in front of him to open the keycard entrance. It was done within seconds and they went through the double metal doors into the parking lot. There were no cars to be seen and the security cameras had been tapped into by the people in the white unmarked van parked a block away. Right now, the low level SD-6 agents were watching a video of the parking lot from the day before.  
  
Taking the elevator was out of the question, but it was the only way into the building. The sensor on the doors was disabled by the same agent who had opened the entrance. When the doors slid open, two agents ran in, the larger one supporting the smaller one as she opened up the access hatch above their heads. One by one, they disappeared through the hole and stood on top of the elevator. Once the leader was satisfied that everyone was ready, he put metal grips on his hands and one single spike on the tip of each of his boots, perfect for scaling concrete walls. He started up the wall, keeping his eyes on the basement door-their destination. The rest of the team scraped their way behind him, a couple sharp intakes of breath puncturing the air as some almost lost their grips.  
  
The tech wizard climbed up past the leader, sliding a metal card between the elevator doors leading to the basement. It disabled the single laser beam running across the bottom of the doors and when he pushed a button on the surface of the card, it separated into two, thus opening the doors. He and the leader pulled the doors open. The leader was just about to put his boot on the floor when the tech's eyes widened. He reached out to stop the movement, but was too late.  
  
When the explosion happened there were no cars on the road. There were no apartment buildings nearby and no people loitering in the office buildings next to Credit Dauphine to call the fire department. The white van sat as silently as it had been before the team had entered, but inside it, three CIA officers were slumped in their chairs, blood dripping down their faces from a single gunshot wound to the forehead. Their murderer had stared them in the face as they were shot.  
  
A block away from the white van, two men jumped out of their unmarked car and ran full-speed to the van. Jack had his gun in his hand already as Weiss started to reach for his. In his free hand, he held a radio and he yelled for the operators in the van to answer, but he already knew what had happened to them. Jack threw the van doors open and Weiss grimaced when he saw the dead officers.  
  
"Shit," he muttered.  
  
"We need to get in contact with Sydney and Vaughn," Jack said, shutting the doors again and turning back to the car they had just left. "This operation has been infiltrated and they'll be the next targets."  
  
Weiss choked back his grief at losing friends as he pocketed the radio to take out his cell phone.  
  
"Patch me through to Monty," he told the operator.  
  
* * *  
  
The phone next to the bed rang loudly. Waking up in the time it took for her to reach over and pick the phone up, Sydney was prepared to hear Weiss' voice on the other end. In their line of work, getting late night phone calls was never a good thing. She already knew what he was going to tell her before he said it.  
  
"Run."  
  
Slamming the phone back in its cradle, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and started to shake Vaughn awake, but he was already sitting up, pulling his clothes on.  
  
"Just grab what you can," she ordered, pulling a sweater over her head and grabbing the gun she'd put in the drawer by the bed. "I'm going to get your mother."  
  
She yanked open the bedroom door and ran across the hallway. Geneviève was standing when she rushed through her door. What Sydney didn't notice was that she held a cell phone in her hand which she quickly slid underneath her covers.  
  
"Get dressed. We have to leave."  
  
"No."  
  
Sydney was already started to turn to go back to Vaughn, and her sudden stop made her trip. She caught herself and threw a look at the older woman.  
  
"I don't have time to argue with you, Geneviève," she said in French, her hand cutting an angry line in the air. "Please get up and get ready to go."  
  
With an equally stubborn expression on her face, Geneviève pushed her covers back and went to stand toe-to-toe with Sydney.  
  
"I will do nothing but slow you and Michel down," she said. "I will stay here."  
  
"No," Sydney said, putting her hands on Geneviève's shoulders. "I can't leave you here. Michael can't leave you here. We won't do that. We do this together."  
  
Geneviève smiled sadly and her eyes moved to focus on a spot behind Sydney. "Not this time, Chèrie. Désolée."  
  
Before she could ask, Sydney's world went black and she didn't even feel the impact as her face hit the shiny hardwood floor.  
  
* * *  
  
The floor was shaking.  
  
Sydney opened her eyes a crack before moving a muscle. Surprise was always something good to have on your side and she didn't want whoever had her to know she was conscious before she could get her bearings.  
  
She was on a cargo plane and there was no one else nearby. There were no voices, no sounds of movement. With some difficulty, she managed to sit up, wincing as she felt a dull ache on her cheek. She blinked her eyes to get used to the dim lighting and she saw that Vaughn was lying at her feet. Moving as fast her stiff limbs would allow, she went to his side, gently cupping his face in her hands.  
  
"Vaughn," she whispered. "Wake up."  
  
His eyes twitched and in a moment, he was groaning as he squinted up at her.  
  
"What the hell happened?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.  
  
"I don't know. I just woke up a few minutes ago."  
  
He sat up and leaned against the bulkhead. The confusion on his face changed to dismay when he saw that it was just the two of them there.  
  
"Where's my mother?" he demanded.  
  
"She had something to do with us being here," Sydney replied. "When I went to get her from her room, she said that we should go on without her because we'd slow her down. Then, I blacked out."  
  
"What if Sloane's behind this?"  
  
"Then we'd be dead, not sitting here."  
  
"Do you have a weapon on you?"  
  
"No," she answered, and stood. "But we can see if we can use anything around here."  
  
They searched the crates, not worried that the pilots would hear them because the noise of the airplane would prevent that from happening. He was on his third box, when Vaughn found their clothes.  
  
"Why would someone who kidnaps us pack our things?" he asked, pulling out his duffel bag. He stuck his hand in it, feeling for something, and when he found it, he frowned. "And why would they let us keep our weapons."  
  
Sydney found her gun in her bag and flicked the safety off. "Let's find out, shall we?"  
  
With Vaughn covering her, she moved to the door to the cockpit. Neither of them were surprised to find it locked. It was foolhardy to shoot at the lock so Sydney knocked on the door.  
  
"Sit back down, Sydney," a painfully familiar voice told her. "Everything will be explained in time."  
  
Watching Sydney's face closely, Vaughn saw the blood drain from her face.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, putting a hand on her arm.  
  
"That's my mother," she said flatly. 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen  
  
Sydney sat in the warm circle of Vaughn's arms, not speaking, her jaw set in a hard line. They'd been in the air for a long time, long enough for her to guess that they were no longer in the United States. In the window- less cargo bay, there was no way to find out which direction they were going in, and not knowing was making her seethe. Vaughn seemed to sense that and he hadn't said a word since she told him the voice that had spoken to them was her mother, but she could feel the tenseness in his arms. Her hand was clamped down on his forearm, knuckles white.  
  
The plane dipped slightly and Sydney felt her ears pop. She knew from experience that they were beginning their descent. It felt like hours, but finally, they felt the hard bump that told them that they had landed. In unison, she and Vaughn got to their feet, weapons in their hand.  
  
"It's cold," Vaughn said, his breath coming out in a visible cloud as he spoke.  
  
Sydney pointed her at the cockpit door, while he aimed his at the cargo door. When the plane came to a full stop, the cockpit door opened and Irina Derevko, a.k.a Laura Bristow, stepped through, her eyebrow arched as she stared down the barrel of her daughter's gun.  
  
"It would be foolish of you to shoot now," she said, though she didn't make a single move towards them. "I'm here to help you."  
  
"Right. Just like you helped us in Taipei," Sydney spat angrily.  
  
"I let you go, didn't I?"  
  
"You almost killed him. I'll never forgive you for that."  
  
"Ah, yes. Your handler.and your lover now, I would guess. Well, I'm making up for it, Darling. I'm saving your life."  
  
Sydney snorted in disbelief, her gun not wavering. "Where are we?"  
  
Irina straightened the fur collar of her coat. "Where else would I take you? I always wanted to take you back to my motherland, Darling, though not this part of it. Welcome to Siberia."  
  
"Where's my mother?" Vaughn demanded.  
  
"If you two would put your weapons down and follow me, I will explain everything in the cabin."  
  
Despite her outrage at what was happening to them, Sydney lowered her gun, but didn't holster it. Vaughn did the same. Irina nodded at that, and walked past them, followed closely by a bearded man neither Sydney nor Vaughn recognized. He didn't look at them, simply walking past them and opening the door for Irina. She stared to go down the walkway, when she realized they weren't following. Turning her head, she tossed them a small smile and gestured for them to follow. Sydney exchanged a glance with Vaughn. He took her hand in his and led the way.  
  
The cold air hit them like a slap in the face. Their lack of warm clothing became painfully apparent and it took all Sydney had to not run to the SUV waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. What little baggage they had was being loaded in the back. It was mercifully warm in the car and they stopped shivering before they made it to the edge of the tarmac. Irina was behind the wheel, the bearded man at her side.  
  
They were in the middle of nowhere, the tarmac the only sign of civilization in the vast snow-covered landscape they found themselves in. Her hand still in Vaughn's, Sydney squeezed hard as they drove further away from the plane they had landed in. If Irina was lying, which her daughter wouldn't have put past her, they didn't have a chance in hell in surviving this. He squeezed back, his thoughts going in the same direction as hers.  
  
"I am not going to hurt you, Sydney," Irina said, her eyes meeting Sydney's in the rearview mirror.  
  
"It's a little too late for that, isn't it?" was the reply, dripping with scorn.  
  
Irina's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything. They drove in a tense silence for nearly an hour before Irina stopped the car. They were far from everything else, in the middle of the flat, forbidding tundra. Irina's companion got out of the car and as if on cue, a small hatch popped up from the ground. It opened to reveal a staircase. He turned and opened Sydney's door. Glaring at him, Sydney ran into the hatch, her ears telling her Vaughn was right at her heels. They couldn't risk being out in the cold for too long.  
  
The staircase led to a large room warmed by a single fireplace in the center of the room. Sydney wondered where the smoke was expelled as it was a dead giveaway to anyone who cared that there was a hideaway under all the ice and rock. For all intents and purposes, they were in a sitting room, comfortable and expensively decorated. A soft burgundy couch with two flanking hunter green armchairs was at the far end of the room and a small bar sat in the corner near them. There were three doors against one wall and Sydney was certain there was a hidden doorway somewhere. She went to stand by the fire, turning her back to it to face their would-be rescuers.  
  
"So, what's the story," she asked Irina. "Where's Mrs. Vaughn?"  
  
"Safe," Irina answered, pouring three glasses of brandy. "She's no longer at the safehouse in Montana, but she's safe where she is."  
  
"If you know where she is, she's not safe," Vaughn retorted, his brow furrowed.  
  
"I beg to differ."  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Sydney said loudly, her temper getting the better of her. "I'm so sick of your games. Just this once, I want a straight answer!"  
  
Sighing, Irina picked up one glass and sat down on the couch. Her bearded companion had disappeared somewhere, Sydney noted, but she didn't care at that moment. There were other things to worry about for now. She watched as Irina took a sip of her drink and she saw then how weary she looked. But Sydney hardened her heart. Vaughn's mother was in the clutches of this woman.and so were they.  
  
"I've known Geneviève a long time," Irina began, surprising her guests. "Before either of you were born. We were old classmates in Paris and she never knew I was Russian. I was originally supposed to go undercover in Paris, so I knew enough to blend in, and she had no reason to suspect otherwise. You both know that those plans changed and I was assigned to the United States later on. Nevertheless, Geneviève and I remained good friends, keeping in contact because a spy always needs contacts. She never knew I lived a mere ten minute drive away from her, but I kept tabs on her. I learned she married a CIA agent like I did, and had a son."  
  
"If she'd known what you really were, she would have hunted you down and killed you," Vaughn said mercilessly, his face hard.  
  
"I don't doubt that. But I did what I had to do not because I'm a cold- hearted murderer out for blood." She drained her glass. "Your father was a double agent, Mr. Vaughn. He was siphoning information to the KGB and I was his handler. Life is funny, isn't it?"  
  
"You're lying," Vaughn exclaimed, his face white. "My father was not a traitor! I read his diaries, I know what he did at the CIA."  
  
"Oh, but he was a traitor. His information was always good and for a time, we thought we'd hit a goldmine. And that diary? It was a plant. I actually wrote parts of it. Let me see if I can remember." She stood and picked up one of the other glasses she poured. "'Kessler talks a lot, but does nothing. I feel like I'm being told to jump into a lake with my hands and feet tied together.' How's that?"  
  
Vaughn walked up to her and took the glass from her hand, tossing back the brandy in one gulp. He'd read his father's diaries again in the time he'd been home, its passages coming back to him quickly. The words she'd spoken were familiar to him. He put his gun down on the bar and he balled his hands into fists, every muscle in his body tense. Sydney felt like her feet were rooted to the spot as she watched Vaughn collapse on the couch, his expression a study in disappointment, misery, and shock. He covered his face with his hands, unable to digest what he was hearing. Irina sat in an armchair, her eyes on him.  
  
"He was another disenchanted CIA officer and perhaps part of the reason for his actions was because of malice, but I can't read minds. He knew he was betraying his country, but he believed he was doing it for a good reason. He never told me what that reason was, but from the conversations we'd shared, I got that read on him.  
  
"In the end, he turned on us. He was going to destroy the information web we'd set up in the Agency by telling his superiors what they'd done. We couldn't allow that to happen, so I was ordered to destroy the web I had so painstakingly created. I think he'd known it was going to happen because he told me before I shot him that he had written down all that he knew and it would all be known should anything happen to his family. I didn't tell him that I had already retrieved his papers, but my orders didn't include wiping out his family, so I spared them.You."  
  
"Jesus," Vaughn muttered. "Jesus Christ."  
  
"I went to the funeral," Irina went on. "I let your mother cry on my shoulder. You don't remember because you were so young and dealing with your own pain. From then on, I spoke to Geneviève at least once a month from wherever I was, even after I left Sydney and Jack. Imagine my surprise when you two grew up to become entangled in all this, together. I thought it might have been fate, that our sins would be cleansed through you two.  
  
"Then, all this happened.there was no way that this was going to end happily. I stepped in and told Geneviève to call me at the first sign of danger. I'd told her a long time ago that I was an agent at the Deuxième, the French version of the CIA, and she didn't hesitate to pick up the phone when you were sent to Montana. She contacted me again the night Weiss called you, even though I already knew what had happened. Nikolai was already there at the house and he brought you two to me."  
  
Sydney felt like the room was spinning around her, but she couldn't move. She only stared at Irina, then at Vaughn, not sure she could believe was she was hearing, but could not find any other reason for Irina to tell such an outlandish story. From Vaughn's reaction to hearing a line from his father's diary, that much was true. They were still alive, so killing them wasn't part of Irina's plan.  
  
"It's hard to believe, I know," Irina said, her tone gentle. "But it's the truth. Possibly the first truthful thing either of you have heard in quite some time."  
  
"Why couldn't you just have left us all alone?" Vaughn said, turning empty eyes to the woman sitting near him, her face an echo of another face that he loved so much that he would sacrifice his life for hers without another thought. He couldn't even describe the hurt he felt, the confusion. His and Sydney's lives had been intertwined from the beginning and marked with so much strife-all because of this one woman who had done her job too well. He wanted to run out into the cold Siberian night and give up. For too long he'd been fighting. Weariness settled on his soul and his shoulders slumped with defeat. He couldn't look at either of them.  
  
"Vaughn?" Sydney said quietly.  
  
He didn't respond and silence cut like a knife.  
  
Irina stood. "I have to leave now," she said. "I will be back in two days with news. The two doors on the left are bedrooms, and the other door is a bathroom. There is enough here to sustain you until my return."  
  
"Can you get word to Dad?" Sydney asked, her voice flat.  
  
"Yes. Take care of him, Darling."  
  
As Irina walked past her, Sydney grabbed her arm. "Don't call me Darling," she snarled.  
  
Irina didn't respond, merely wrenching her arm from Sydney's grasp and going up the stairs. When Sydney heard the trapdoor close, she took a step towards Vaughn.  
  
"Vaughn," she said again.  
  
"Just leave me alone for a little while," he said hoarsely, staring at the empty brandy glass in front of him.  
  
Lips set in a straight line, Sydney nodded. She opened the door to one of the bedrooms, when she turned back around to go to the bar. She picked up the brandy snifter and she set it in front of him. Then, she disappeared behind a closed door, succumbing to the tears she had been fighting.  
  
On the couch, Vaughn picked up the snifter and filled his glass to the brim. 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen  
  
Jack saw the back of Dixon's head at a distance. He cut a straight path through the crowd thronging outside the smoking carcass of the Credit Dauphine building towards him. Dixon turned before Jack reached him, meeting the other man's eyes.  
  
"Do you know what happened here?" Jack asked.  
  
"I was about to ask you the same question," Dixon said carefully. "Though I have a feeling you know much more than I do. Sydney's disappearance and this explosion happening days after is not a coincidence. There are no coincidences in our business, Jack."  
  
"Come with me."  
  
Jack led him to his car and they drove off, heading to the warehouse where Vaughn and Sydney used to meet. Dixon didn't ask any questions when they got out, but his right hand drifted close to his weapon and he made sure to make Jack go ahead of him. Weiss was waiting for them in the inner room and he couldn't hide his surprise when he spotted Dixon hovering behind Jack. Surprise turned to anger quickly as the ramifications of Jack's actions hit him.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing now?" he demanded.  
  
"We need him if we're going to save Sydney," Jack said. "I'm under suspicion already, but he's not. He can move freely and ask the right questions; we can't."  
  
They both heard the snick of Dixon's gun leaving its holder, but Jack was faster-he had his gun pointed at Dixon's face before the other man's gun was up.  
  
"Don't do anything foolish, Marcus," Jack said coolly.  
  
"I knew I couldn't trust her," Dixon returned bitterly. "But I let my emotions guide my choices instead of common sense and I sure as hell didn't expect you to be caught on the wrong side of this, Jack. I thought you were smarter than that."  
  
"Put the gun down, Mr. Dixon," Weiss said.  
  
"And who is this guy?"  
  
Weiss reached for his ID, holding one hand out to reassure Dixon. "My name is Eric Weiss and I'm a CIA officer. I believe you met a good friend of mine: Michael Vaughn."  
  
Confusion flickered across Dixon's face and his gun dropped. "CIA? Why are you mixed up in this?"  
  
"Put the gun down and I'll explain," Weiss said. "That goes for you, too, Jack."  
  
Jack lowered his weapon and Dixon holstered his. Weiss gestured to one of the crates lying around.  
  
"Take a seat. This might take some time," he said.  
  
Two hours later, Dixon was staring in disbelief at Jack and Weiss. He was horrified at learning that he'd been working for the wrong side for all these years and couldn't believe that all this was happening. Guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what he would do now. He couldn't fix all the damage he'd caused in the name of patriotism, but he could make up for it. That was what Jack and Weiss were asking of him now. He silently apologized to his young partner for doubting her, and wanted nothing more than to see her again so he could say that. He owed her his life and she'd nearly blown her cover doing that. Fighting back a wave of despair at learning what he really was, Dixon looked up and met Jack's eyes with a hard stare.  
  
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.  
  
* * *  
  
After a night of restless tossing and turning, Sydney rolled out of bed, slipped her feet into the slippers on the floor, and shrugged on the robe she found hanging behind the door. She opened the door and found Vaughn passed out on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes. She wasn't surprised to find the brandy snifter one glass away from empty. His own glass was on the ground, the hand he had hanging off the couch grazing it. On silent feet, Sydney picked up the glass and snifter, replacing them on the bar. Vaughn groaned then and he opened his eyes when she turned around.  
  
"Hi," she said quietly.  
  
"Hi," he returned, sounding a step away from death. "I feel like I drowned in a vat of alcohol. Drowned.maybe not the best word to use."  
  
"Do you want some coffee?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
He started to sit up and had to close his eyes when the room started to spin. He had one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had and he could barely move. His limbs felt like they were weighed down with lead weights, and the room couldn't seem to stop spinning. He managed to sit up, but had to rest his head back as he took deep breaths to avoid puking his guts out.  
  
Sydney placed a trash can next to him in case he did just that and went to the small kitchenette to turn the coffeemaker on. Irina's hideaway had all the comforts of home, save windows.  
  
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.  
  
"No. I should have had a drink."  
  
"I shouldn't have had a drink."  
  
"You look horrible."  
  
"Believe me, I look the way I feel."  
  
"Vaughn.I'm sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault my father was a traitor, Syd. Besides, you have your own parental problems to deal with. Why are our families so fucked up?"  
  
Not used to hearing him curse, Sydney had to turn her attention to retrieving coffee mugs to find the right words to answer him with.  
  
"We're not fucked up," she said.  
  
"Guess again. An agent and her handler, her amnesiac handler rather, falling in love and running to save their lives. It couldn't get more fucked up than that."  
  
Sydney poured coffee into two cups and brought them to him. She sat next to him, but didn't touch him. He sipped at the coffee, grimacing at the taste. He put the cup on the table.  
  
"Another Sydney factoid: she can't make coffee," he muttered as he leaned his head back again.  
  
Sydney cracked a smile. "Thanks a lot."  
  
He turned his head to look at her, his green eyes earnest. "I don't blame you, Syd. I never have and I never will. The sins of our parents are not passed on to us." He took her hand in his. "I'll love you no matter what."  
  
His words were a blessing and she put her cup down in order to put her arms around him. He put an arm around her, holding her close.  
  
"Thank you for that," she said. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you with me.that you understand and that you don't hate me for putting you through this."  
  
"You're just another pawn to them, like I am. The last thing I want is for you to go through this alone. You've been alone for too long, and I want to be here for you the way I always wanted to be."  
  
Sydney smiled and was about to respond, when a wave of nausea hit her. She reached the trash can before she could make a mess. Vaughn held her hair and rubbed her back, muttering things under his breath that she couldn't hear over her retching. When it was over, she collapsed onto the soft cushions of the couch.  
  
"What a pair we are," Vaughn said. "I'd get you water, but I don't think I can get up."  
  
"I'll get it," she said, pushing herself off.  
  
"What was that about? Are you alright?"  
  
"I don't know. It's probably just nerves."  
  
"Has that happened to you before?"  
  
"No."  
  
"When's your mother coming back? We need to see a doctor."  
  
"We can't let anyone else know we're here."  
  
"What if you caught a bug? You need to be looked at."  
  
She came back with two glasses of water, her own already half empty. She handed him his glass. "Stop fussing and drink your water."  
  
He kept his eyes on her as he drank. "If something's wrong, we need to know now instead of later. God only knows what's going on back in LA."  
  
"Alright, alright." She smoothed the three lines on his forehead that always appeared when he was worried-and she'd seen those lines more often than she'd like. "I'll talk to Irina about a doctor."  
  
"Is there anything to do around here?" he asked, his eyes still closed.  
  
"I think I saw a deck of cards in my bedside table."  
  
"How about some strip poker?"  
  
The suggestion was so ridiculous that Sydney laughed. He was hungover and she had just thrown up. They weren't exactly at the peak of their sexiness.  
  
"Just go brush your teeth," he said as if reading her mind.  
  
She laughed harder as she stood, hitting him lightly on the shoulder as she passed. But she did brush her teeth and she went back to him, the deck of cards in her hand.  
  
"That's what I love about you," she said. "You can always make me feel better."  
  
"I like to see you smile."  
  
He managed to stand and he put an arm around her, leading her back to the room.  
  
"No fancy stuff," he said, kissing her temple. "I just think we both need a good rest. You have shadows under your eyes and me...well falling unconscious from having too much to drink is not my idea of a good rest."  
  
They laid back down on the bed, Sydney curled up at Vaughn's side. He had an arm around her shoulders and she threw an arm across his stomach, holding him tightly.  
  
"Sleep," he murmured.  
  
And in the safety of his arms, Sydney fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen  
  
Francie stretched as she yawned, never one to welcome the new day happily. She turned on the television as she readied the coffee pot, not really paying attention but needing the noise. The apartment had been too silent since Will then Sydney disappeared. She was beginning to worry about them, and her wild imagination even went so far as to have her believing they had eloped somewhere. That thought was quickly discarded when she remembered Sydney's new boyfriend, and then she thought maybe she had eloped with him!  
  
Chuckling to herself as she waited for the percolating to begin, she nearly missed the breaking news item flashing across the TV screen. The words 'Credit Dauphine' caught her attention and she looked up in time to see the blackened remains of Sydney's office building. Her jaw dropped and she moved to the couch, sitting on the edge as she listened to the news cast about the explosion that had happened late last night. Her heart constricted with fear over her friend's safety and she blindly grabbed for the phone, dialing Sydney's cell phone number. It went straight to voicemail and she left a frantic, nearly incomprehensible message.  
  
Numb, she watched with shock as the camera showed groups of people clustered near the site, and she squinted, trying to see if maybe she could spot Sydney. She didn't know who to call or turn to, with Will gone as well, and felt helpless. Then, she remembered that Sydney kept her dad's number in her nightstand in case of emergencies. Francie raced to the room and dug through the drawer in search for that little piece of paper. With shaking fingers, she lifted it out and picked up the phone next to Sydney's bed.  
  
To her dismay, he didn't answer, and she left a message on his phone as well, silently railing against the Bristows' inability to answer their phones. Her next call was to her job because she was not leaving the TV until she knew Sydney was alright. But somehow, she knew that Sydney wasn't alright and she began to cry. She curled up in her best friend's bed, wishing that someone was there to be with her.  
  
She needed Will.  
  
A knock at the door caught her attention and she flew up, hoping that it was Sydney. When she looked through the peephole, she was surprised to find Jack Bristow on the other side of the door. She threw it open and started to ask him about Sydney, but he pushed past her.  
  
"Pack some things," he said. "You have to leave here."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I'll explain later."  
  
"What about Sydney?"  
  
"Later. Pack."  
  
She didn't know why, but she trusted him and stopped asking questions. Maybe it was the way his eyes kept on darting around the room, searching for something she couldn't see. Francie went into her room, pulled out a large suitcase, and began to pack.  
  
* * *  
  
At the same time, Will was watching the news cast, though he didn't have the same reaction as Francie. He knew Sydney was safe somewhere else, but he wondered how their friend was doing. Francie was alone, and although she had other friends, he and Sydney were the closest to her. He wanted to be with her then and he got up, restlessly pacing around the room as he kept one eye on the TV.  
  
Santiago watched Will move up and down the room. His barely controlled movements were making her uneasy and she began to fidget in her seat. She was having about as much fun as he was on this assignment, but she bore it gracefully, wanting the more senior agents to notice her and maybe give her a better one in the future. She did wonder why they were keeping him around for so long. Usually the people who ended up in CIA safehouses left soon after to start new lives with new identities.or sent back to old ones when they became useless to the Agency. She'd seen the people who had rushed into the house two days before, and instinctively knew that they were more important than they seemed, so she stayed silent.  
  
"Did you know someone who worked there?" she asked her principal.  
  
"No," Will said tersely. "I'm just worried about another friend of mine. Listen, do you have any idea when I can get out of here?"  
  
As if on cue, the front door opened and Weiss came in.  
  
"You need to go," he said.  
  
"Home?" Will asked hopefully.  
  
"No. Get your stuff. We have to go now."  
  
"I'm so sick of this shit," Will muttered as he disappeared into his room.  
  
"You're dismissed, Ms. Santiago," Weiss said, nodding at her.  
  
"Yes, sir," she said, no questions asked, and she went out the door without another word.  
  
Will came out a moment later and Weiss led him to the waiting car. To Will's shock, Francie was sitting in the back, her brown eyes wide when she saw him. He threw himself into the back of the car and gathered her in his arms. She clutched at him, sobbing into his shoulder and he rubbed her back as he cried, too. Weiss glanced at them through the rearview mirror, and sped out of the driveway, his tires leaving marks on the road.  
  
* * *  
  
"I have her."  
  
The voice, an echo from the past, nearly made Jack run off the road. After learning Sydney and Vaughn had disappeared from the Montana safehouse, he'd been at his wits end trying to find them. Even Geneviève was gone and no one could explain where they had gone. Now, he had his answer.  
  
"Where are they, Irina?" he demanded harshly. "The last thing any of us need is trouble from you. I think you at least owe Sydney that much."  
  
"What about you, Jack?"  
  
"I don't want anything from you. The last time I wanted something from you, you ripped our lives apart."  
  
Her silence spoke volumes. The agony he'd felt upon learning who his wife really was had driven him from Sydney, for he'd seen her mother's face every time he looked at her. He regretted it, but he swore he would make it up to her. He wished then that Irina had really died when her car had fallen off the bridge, and then he would have one last problem to deal with. Feelings he thought had been purged from his system came screaming back to him. He'd loved her with his heart and soul, a man who never expected to find his soulmate and so he had fallen hard. He thought he would die when he thought she did, then he wanted to kill her for betraying him the way she did. It had made him question who he was and what he'd been doing for the ten years they were together. He wanted to shake her, wanted to ask her why she'd done this to him and their daughter, but that could wait until his daughter was safe.  
  
His daughter. Not theirs.  
  
"It's a little late for a custody battle, isn't it?" he said flatly.  
  
"We do not have the time for petty arguments," Irina spat, angry at herself for being hurt at his words. "Sydney is safer with me than with you or that damned Agency you work for."  
  
"You'll understand that I find that a little hard to swallow."  
  
"I just wanted to tell you that she and her lover are fine."  
  
With that, she hung up, leaving Jack to quietly seethe. He tossed his cell phone to the passenger seat and drove like a maniac to CIA headquarters. He knew at that moment that Weiss was briefing Sydney's friends. They would have to leave their homes and their lives in order to save Sydney's life and theirs as well. Jack couldn't believe the chaos that surrounded him, couldn't believe that this was happening when he'd survived missions more harrowing and dangerous. Well, maybe not more dangerous. Still, so many lives had been disrupted by Sydney's lapse in judgment and he felt a flare of anger towards her. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the thought from his mind, focusing on the road. Despite his anger, he wanted to protect her, and to do that, he had to find where she was.  
  
And he knew exactly where he had to start looking. 


	21. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty  
  
Sydney woke to the sight of Vaughn sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over. He had one hand on the back of his neck and the other hung limply between his knees. She watched as he took a deep, shuddering breath, his head bowed with his anguish.  
  
"Vaughn," she said, moving to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. "Let it out."  
  
He turned and took her in his arms, burying his face in her shoulder. She could feel the wetness of his tears through her shirt, and had to fight her own. She held him tightly, willing him to let her shoulder some of the burden for his pain was her own.  
  
"All these years," he murmured. "All these years and I thought my dad was an innocent victim. I thought he was an honorable man who died in the line of duty. If my mother finds out about this, it'll kill her."  
  
"It was a different time, different circumstances."  
  
"Yes, but at least then you could pick your sides and know exactly where you stood. He picked the wrong side. I've wasted all these years grieving for him and I don't know what to think anymore. I grew up wishing that he was around to do all those things that fathers were supposed to do: teach me to drive, see me off on my first date, and teach me how to shave. Finding his murderer was one of the reasons I joined the CIA; the other was because I wanted to be like him. Now the last thing I want to be is like him."  
  
Sydney took his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She wiped the tears from his cheeks and looked deep into his eyes, those sea green eyes that she'd dreamed about for so long. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, his arms tightening around her.  
  
Desire flared between them. She pulled him down on the bed, her hands tangled in his hair as his hands traveled along the length of her body. His lips found their way to the tender spot right underneath her ear and she sighed, arching her body against his. He found the bottom of her shirt and yanked it over her head. Their mouths met, hungrily devouring each other, a sense of desperation in the kiss. Sydney knew Vaughn was trying to ease his grief by losing himself in her and she wanted to give him all she had.  
  
When his hands found their way to her bared breasts, she moaned, closing her eyes and losing herself in his caresses. She wound her legs tightly around his waist, feeling his desire and wanting it. She flipped their positions, and straddled his waist. Her hair fell around them when she bowed her head to kiss him and he crushed her to him, every inch of their bodies touching. She broke their kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head and discard his pants. He sat up and pushed her back down, reversing their positions yet again, taking her pants off in one sweeping movement. With infinite gentleness, he began to enter her as her hands clutched at his shoulders, her head tossed back. He kissed the long column of her neck, feeling her sigh when they were joined.  
  
They moved slowly at first then with growing urgency. Sweat glistened on them both as they rolled about on the bed, pillows and sheets falling to the ground. Finally, Sydney shuddered around him, her moans nearly turning into a slow scream as she let herself go. He followed her soon after, his eyes closed as he released an explosive sigh.  
  
She collapsed in his arms, not sure how they got to the foot of the bed, but satisfied nevertheless. She waited until his breathing slowed before getting up on one elbow so she could look down on his face. His eyes were narrow slits as he looked up at her, and he reached up to put a hand behind her head, his fingers sliding through her silky hair. They stared at each other for a moment, brown eyes and green saying things that they couldn't, not wanting to break the silence. Sydney pressed a gentle kiss to his temple and lay back down.  
  
A tap at the door made them both shoot up from the bed. Mindless of her nudity, Sydney grabbed her weapon from the nightstand as Vaughn dug around his clothes in search of his holstered gun.  
  
"Who is it?" Sydney demanded.  
  
"It's me," Irina's voice came muffled from the other side of the closed door. "Come out. There are things that have happened."  
  
The two lovers exchanged worried looks. They threw on their clothes, not bothering to smooth any ruffled edges, and came out. Irina only arched an eyebrow at their appearance, and quickly got down to business.  
  
"The Credit Dauphine building self-destructed last night," she said.  
  
Sydney's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. "Was there anybody there?"  
  
"A CIA team sent in by your father and Agent Eric Weiss."  
  
"They weren't part of the team, were they?" Vaughn asked, a sense of dread settling over him.  
  
"No. They tried to infiltrate SD-6 with the information they received before the aborted takeover by McKenas Cole, which was stupid, but I can only assume that time was a factor in the decision."  
  
"What's going on now?" Sydney questioned, brow furrowed.  
  
"Those who used to work for SD-6 have been put on suspension until further notice. You'll be interested to note that your partner Dixon has been seen in the presence of your father."  
  
"Did you tell Dad that we were here?"  
  
Irina's face shuttered. "Yes, I did. But knowing him, he'll still try to find you."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Sloane has disappeared."  
  
Both Sydney and Vaughn straightened.  
  
"What do you mean disappeared?" Vaughn said. "A man like Arvin Sloane can't just disappear. From the information you've given us, we know that you have contacts where you're not supposed to have any. He can't hide from you."  
  
"That's what I thought, but disappear he has. Even his colleagues in the Alliance do not know where he has gone. They're on full alert until he reappears."  
  
"Why would he disappear?" Sydney thought aloud.  
  
"Ever since Emily's death, he's been chafing at the bit, if you will. The Alliance's order to kill her was hard to swallow and he did it because he's wanted to be part of the inner circle, but after he did it."  
  
"Wait.are you telling me, he killed Emily?"  
  
"You didn't know?"  
  
Sydney was horrified and disgusted, but not surprised that Sloane was capable of such ruthlessness.  
  
"Go on," Vaughn cajoled.  
  
"He couldn't stomach the act. Unbeknownst to his superiors, he put together a team of people to make his exit strategy easier-and more lucrative. I believe he's trying to get another SD-6 off the ground, though without its Alliance affiliation. Arvin never could handle authority and I'm sure his dream is to be his own boss. He's out there now, putting this together."  
  
"I should have killed him when I had the chance," Sydney muttered.  
  
"You never would have gotten close enough," Irina said.  
  
"What does that mean for us?" Vaughn said pensively.  
  
"He's still hunting for you, Sydney. More for sport and training for his new people than anything else."  
  
"Why can't he just leave me alone?" Sydney exploded. "I've been doing his bidding for too long and I want to be set free!"  
  
"It's never that easy," Irina said without sympathy.  
  
"We have to keep running then," Vaughn said flatly. "What about my mother?"  
  
"She's safe."  
  
"Is she alive?"  
  
"That's a little insulting. Of course she is. And she will remain safe for the rest of her days."  
  
"I'd like to see her again."  
  
"And risk her life?"  
  
Vaughn pressed his lips tightly together, a muscle in his jaw working. Sydney put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"We can't stay here. We have to keep moving," she said.  
  
"And where would you move to? This is the safest place you can be."  
  
"He'll find us. It's not everyday someone orders a bunker to be built in the middle of Siberia and no matter how careful you were, he'll find it. Just like you found out all you did about him."  
  
Irina considered her words. "Fine. But at least stay here until you can get yourselves ready to travel."  
  
"Can you get us identification papers and passports?" Sydney asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Clothes and money," Vaughn put in.  
  
"An endless supply," Irina said with a small smile and she stood. "I'll be back in a few days. Rest up. You'll be busy for a long time."  
  
She went up the stairs and out the door, letting a blast of cold air in. Sydney barely felt it. She imagined years of running around the world, hiding, and always watching her back. It was her worst nightmare. She could only imagine how it was for Vaughn. He'd been living a happy, quiet life before she had come screaming into it. Regret, guilt fought for control of her mind and she sat back on the couch.  
  
"Well, I've always wanted to see the world," Vaughn said with that same flat tone that made Sydney's gut tighten with fear.  
  
"I can't believe it went this far," she said.  
  
"We'll make it through this."  
  
"Did anyone ever tell you that you were a hopeless optimist?"  
  
"No, but one of us has to be."  
  
Sighing, Sydney stood. As much as she wanted to have him by her side, it was getting past the point of fairness. He didn't deserve this. He deserved a house with a white picket fence, a beautiful wife and cute kids. Not spending nights in cheap hotels or waking up at the slightest bit of noise or constantly watching his back. She couldn't do it to him and she loved him enough to let him go. She turned to him but before she opened her mouth, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto his lap.  
  
"I'm sick of fighting with you, Syd," he murmured in her ear. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Do you understand what you're saying? There's no turning back now, Vaughn."  
  
"I would rather run away with you than spend the rest of my life wondering where you are and if you're still alive. Seeing your face everyday, no matter where we are, be it the middle of the desert or Tokyo, would be more humane. This is it, you and me. I can't picture my life without you."  
  
Sydney didn't know what she did to deserve him, but she let out a grateful sob and buried her face in his neck. She wished she could believe that he'd feel this way for the rest of their lives, but she couldn't. The last thing she wanted was for him to wake up one morning full of regret that he'd gone along for the ride. That would be harder than letting him go.at least, that's what she let herself think. She pressed a kiss to his cool skin and breathed in his scent, not wanting to ever forget it.  
  
"Thank you," she said shakily, knowing what she was going to have to do.for him. "Thank you."  
  
He rubbed her back and smiled wanly. "You're welcome. 


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One  
  
Jack stepped out of the small two-seater plane, his heart still beating fast from the dangerous landing he'd just made. Although the plane had runners instead of wheels to make it easier to land on snow, it was still a dangerous maneuver and he'd slid farther than he intended to. For a couple tense seconds, he thought he would lose control of the plane as it didn't seem to want to slow down, but it finally did, though he'd overshot his landing by a few meters.  
  
Pushing the incident from his mind, Jack pulled his hood around his face and took out a small, flat handheld computer that included an infrared detector. He turned it on, praying that the cold didn't affect it, despite Weiss' reassurances that the man who'd built it was a genius. He let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when it beeped at him. It warmed up for a moment, and he waited impatiently, barely feeling the cold air on his face and hands. Then.he spotted what he was looking for.  
  
Not more than ten yards away, he was getting a heat signature from two bodies. Boots crunching on the snow, he rushed to that direction, only to find himself on top of it. He knelt and dug around the snow, ignoring the pain shooting up his arms as the snow froze his hands quickly. Finally, he touched the top of what was a trapdoor. There was a keycard access, but he bypassed that easily. The door popped open and took out his weapon. He grimaced when he couldn't get a proper grip at it, not sure if he could shoot it at all, but he kept it in his hand. Slowly, he made his way down the dark stairs and into a warm room lit by a single fire in the middle of it.  
  
"Sydney?" he called out.  
  
His sharp hearing caught the movement in one of the room and he ran to it just as the door opened, revealing a panic-stricken Vaughn with only a pair of boxer shorts on.  
  
"Where is she?" Jack demanded, and his voice had an edge of desperation to it.  
  
Vaughn put a hand to his chest in relief as Sydney pushed past him to throw herself in her father's arms. Jack held her tightly, his lips pressed tightly together as he fought back a wave of emotion at seeing her again.  
  
"I'm so glad to see you," she said tearfully. "Oh, Dad.what have I done?"  
  
Jack held her at arm's length to look into her face. "This isn't your fault, Sydney."  
  
"Everyone seems to feel the need to say that to me. That tells me that it is."  
  
He sighed. She was right, but he couldn't say that to her. He looked to her companion, annoyed that he'd caught them in bed together-but he wasn't surprised. He was relieved that Sydney had regular pajamas on.  
  
"Getting dressed would be a good idea, Mr. Vaughn," he said, one thin, gray eyebrow arched.  
  
A red stain appeared on Vaughn's cheeks and he turned around to go into the room, closing the door behind him. Sydney tucked away a smile at his sheepish expression and turned to her father.  
  
"How did you find us?" she asked.  
  
"Once I knew your mother had you, it wasn't hard to figure out where she would keep you. After all, you are half-Russian."  
  
The idea hadn't occurred to Sydney. She usually tried not to think about her mother that much, even now. "I see." She sat down on the couch, her hands clasped tightly together. "What's going on, Dad?"  
  
Jack stayed standing, but he pulled his winter garments off. "SD-6 is gone. At this point, its employees are suspended with pay, including myself, while the Alliance tries to reorganize itself. Sloane is missing and there is a manhunt for him.and for the two of you."  
  
He paused when they heard movement near the opened trapdoor and Jack cursed himself for forgetting to close it. Irina came barreling through the doorway, a wicked looking rifle in her hands. She threw Jack an exasperated look as she lowered the weapon.  
  
"Would a phone call have been too much to ask?" she said.  
  
He merely snorted. Vaughn emerged from the room, his hands shoved into his jeans pocket. He looked around the room and with a resigned look, sat down next to Sydney.  
  
"So what do we do now?" he asked.  
  
Jack tore his eyes away from Irina and turned to them. "We need to get you back to the states."  
  
"Why?" Vaughn demanded. "I'm not going anywhere without Sydney."  
  
"Use your common sense, Mr. Vaughn," Jack said roughly. "They know the two of you are traveling together so they'll be on the lookout for couples on planes. No matter how much you alter your appearance, you'll always be under the microscope simply because there are two of you."  
  
"There are precautions we can take."  
  
"They're unnecessary risks," Irina put in.  
  
"We want to stay together," Vaughn said tersely.  
  
He noticed then that Sydney had remained silent during the discussion and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He looked at her and saw the worried expression on her face.  
  
"Or do we?" he added.  
  
"We can't just leave here in disguises and dyed hair," she said anxiously. "I do want to stay with you, Vaughn, but we can't just hop on a plane just yet. I think.I think maybe we should fake your death." She smiled humorlessly at her mother. "You've inspired me."  
  
"Fake my death?" Vaughn echoed.  
  
Jack looked closely at Sydney, trying to read her expression but she stayed studiously blank. He hadn't expected her to come up with that and had been prepared to fight with them both on this subject. Instinctively, he knew something was going on, but didn't question her right then. He would corner her later.if he could.  
  
"Yes," Sydney said. "We'll take you back to the states, make sure people see you, and then you jump off a bridge or something. A suicide attempt because of all the things that you learned. Then, we find a corpse, doctor it up, and bury him while you'll be on a plane to where I'll be."  
  
"You can do that?" Vaughn said to Jack.  
  
Jack didn't answer, but threw him a withering look.  
  
"They won't be easily fooled by that," Irina warned.  
  
"Not if the body is done well," Sydney said. "I've seen it done before. They can do it. I think it's our best bet. The one downside would be not telling your mother or Weiss. We need their real reactions to make things go smoothly."  
  
"I agree," Jack said.  
  
"If you think it's best," Vaughn said, looking at Sydney.  
  
She smiled tightly at him and put a hand over his. "It'll give us our chance."  
  
He nodded and looked to Jack. "How soon can we arrange it?"  
  
Jack pulled out a satellite phone. "Now. We will need Weiss for this, but Mrs. Vaughn will be kept in the dark."  
  
Vaughn grimaced. "Jesus. This might kill her."  
  
"I'll be with her," Irina said. "Not at the funeral, but when she gets the call. Make sure of that."  
  
"Fine," Jack said, dialing a number.  
  
* * *  
  
Weiss listened to the plan, his face going through various stages of disbelief. He agreed with Sydney; it would give them their best chance at getting away and not getting caught, but he still believed that separating them would give them the highest chance at survival. Not that he expected that to happen. After all the pains they had gone through to stay together, separating now would be too little too late.  
  
He didn't say a word until Jack finished speaking, concentrating on writing down all that he had to do. It was midnight and he had gotten a mere three hours of sleep, but as usual, time was not on their side.  
  
"Did you get all that?" Jack asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. Call me when it's set."  
  
He hung up without a goodbye, not that Weiss was expecting it. He got out of bed and was faintly amused to find that he hadn't changed into his pajamas-he was still in a dress shirt, wrinkled beyond repair, and gray slacks. He changed the shirt, grabbed a tie and his jacket, and ran out of his apartment. Cell phone up against his ear, he began to arrange Vaughn's death.  
  
* * *  
  
It would have been kind to call the situation tense. Jack had stayed obstinately silent since hanging up with Weiss and Irina sat like a coiled spring in one of the armchairs. Sydney was battling an intense feeling of depression while Vaughn didn't bother hiding his unease with not telling his mother. If it wasn't for that, he would have begun to worry about being separated from Sydney.  
  
"Are you hungry?" Sydney asked her father.  
  
"No," he answered.  
  
"I am," Irina said. "I ran over here when your father set off the alarm."  
  
"Where were you?" Sydney asked. "You got here very quickly."  
  
"This isn't the only bunker I built."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I need a drink," Vaughn said, jumping up and going to the bar.  
  
"I would have thought the smell of alcohol would make you stay away from there for a while," Sydney pointed out.  
  
"Some things supercede nausea. Speaking of which, Sydney's come down with some kind of stomach flu."  
  
"Do you have a fever?" Jack inquired, frowning.  
  
"No. I think it was a passing bug."  
  
"We should have you looked over before you leave," Irina said.  
  
"Fine. Whatever."  
  
"Some family reunion," Jack snorted.  
  
The two women he'd once considered the most precious in his life, well one still was, stared at him.  
  
"Very sensitive, Dad," Sydney snorted.  
  
"Really, Jack," Irina said.  
  
"Drink, Jack?"  
  
"No. I need to keep a clear head."  
  
"Since when did one glass of brandy topple you over?" Irina questioned.  
  
"I should have known you were Russian with the way you tossed back your liquor," Jack said.  
  
It was almost a joke if not for the sour expression on his face and the venom in his tone. Sydney felt like throwing up, but she took slow breaths. Irina glared at Jack, but didn't respond to his comment. At the bar, Vaughn tossed back his own liquor. 


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two  
  
The man jumped off the bridge at eleven o'clock the next evening. There had been witnesses that said he had been walking along the beach, muttering things to himself, before making it up there. No one had been able to reach him in time to stop him, and by the time they dragged his body from the water, he was long dead. It was easy to identify him for the Agency had all his records. His closest friend identified the body, near hysterical when they pulled back the sheet to reveal a still familiar face. He'd sat outside the morgue for nearly an hour afterwards, head bowed and eyes red.  
  
It hadn't been hard for Weiss to pretend to grieve. All he'd had to do was think about what would happen if this didn't happen, and the mess they had gotten themselves into. Even the tears weren't hard. He was exhausted and they were mostly due to that. He wanted his life to go back to the way it was and he wondered what it would be after this-if he survived. He'd barely eaten and barely slept, running on pure adrenaline. Breakdown was just around the corner.  
  
When he finally got up, his legs were stiff and he had to hold on to the wall to steady himself. It was a nice touch, he thought. The people he passed that knew looked at him with pity, and he hoped they went home to tell their friends and family about the CIA officer who had committed suicide that day. He knew they would whisper about why he did it. Was it because of the secrets he'd had to keep? Or maybe it was because of things he'd seen? In any case, it would only solidify the story, and then Vaughn would truly be safe.  
  
Weiss only hoped that the name he chose in his next life would be Eric. It would be a nice touch, too. As he went to his car, he wondered what he would do with Donovan.  
  
* * *  
  
Geneviéve was enjoying a quiet dinner with her friend Jeanne when she received a call. Still laughing at something Jeanne had said, she wasn't prepared for the solemn voice on the other end of the line.  
  
"Eric?" she said. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I have some bad news," Weiss said quietly, hating his job, his sense of duty, and his friend. "It's Michael."  
  
The phone dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers and Geneviéve would have collapsed on the floor had it not been for Jeanne's quick reflexes.  
  
"Qu'est-ce que se passe?" she asked. What happened?  
  
"Mon petit Michel," Geneviéve sobbed. "Mon pauvre petit Michel. Il est mort." My poor little Michael. He's dead.  
  
Jeanne put her arms around Geneviéve and let her cry, her body racking with sobs. Her hands clutched at Jeanne's shoulders to the point of pain, but Jeanne didn't move. She let her friend cry, wanting to cry a little herself at what was happening. She knew how much Geneviéve loved her only son. This would kill her, she knew, but she would do all she can to hold Geneviéve together until the time came.  
  
* * *  
  
Michael Vaughn's funeral drew a crowd. His colleagues from the CIA and friends with whom he'd lost touch surrounded his grave. His mother was there, her limp hand tucked into Eric Weiss' elbow. They stood together, the two closest people to Michael, their faces white as the priest blessed his corpse. Their faces were white, their tears long shed. They held to each other, sharing strength as they received condolences from Michael's other friends and colleagues.  
  
Everyone else was crying, including Michael's ex- fiancée, Alice. She wished she'd told him how special their time together was and how she missed him lying next to her, but it was too late now. She could only wonder why he'd chosen to end his life. He had only been thirty-five.too young for this. As they lowered his coffin, she thought she would collapse. She looked across the way to his mother and Eric. They had their eyes on the shiny brown coffin as it was being lowered slowly, painfully so. Alice had to look away.  
  
On the edges of the crowd, a non-descript woman watched the proceedings. Her expression held the proper amount of sadness, but the eyes she hid behind her dark glasses were studying each face in the crowd. She had a report to give as soon as the funeral was over and she didn't want to miss a thing. For reasons she didn't know, her employer had given her the task of attending this particular funeral and to assess the situation. She deduced that he had reason to suspect that this was staged, but she'd procured the medical examiner's report and had matched up dental records to what was given to her. Even the face, grotesque as it had been, had been identifiable enough to match the photograph she had. Now, looking at the grief-stricken crowd, she knew that she wouldn't be wrong in saying that Michael Vaughn was truly dead.  
  
* * *  
  
Vaughn sat on a crate in the dank warehouse. It wasn't the one where he used to meet Sydney, but it was almost identical to it. A single lightbulb lit the small room he was in as he waited for Jack, restless because he wanted to get going. Every second he stayed away from Sydney, the more worried he became. Something wasn't right about all this. He didn't know what, but he could sense it. The only explanation he could come up with was that she was in trouble. He prayed to God that she wasn't, but his instincts, though certainly not as well honed as hers or her parent's, were hardly ever wrong.  
  
It was then did he notice the corner of a brown envelope sticking out from underneath the crate across from him.  
  
And he knew what was wrong.  
  
Almost tripping in his haste, he grabbed the envelope and tore it open. In it was a Canadian passport, several thousand dollars in cash, a credit card, three plane tickets.and a letter. He dropped the rest of the envelope's contents on the floor as he unfolded the letter. His hands shook as he read it, the paper rustling because of it.  
  
Dear Vaughn,  
  
By now, I'm sure that you're worrying yourself sick because you have a feeling something's off. I'm sorry that this had to happen, but it has to for you to stay alive. I made a mistake in doing what I did and I don't want you to pay for it. I love you, more than you'll ever know, and so I had to make this sacrifice. I have to let you go. I already let it go too far and you have to live another life, but this is the best that I can give you. Sloane is after me, not you, and I don't want you to die for my weakness. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish I had a picture of you, but all I have are the memories of lying in your arms and your smile and the look in your eyes when you tell me you love me. I love you. I'll always love you. I'm sorry.  
  
Sydney  
  
Vaughn swallowed hard. He read the letter again and again, trying to force the reality of the situation into his frozen mind. Finally, with an anger he hadn't expected, he crumpled it up and shoved it in his pocket. She'd abandoned him and he hated her for it. His mouth set in a hard line, he picked up the passport, money, and plane tickets. He had to leave and he could never come back here again. He'd uprooted his life for her and she'd left him. She'd left him like he was simply a thing she'd played with and now let go. Anger filled him. Later, he would be sad.  
  
Feeling lost and alone, he walked out of the warehouse, his hand still curled around her letter. 


	24. Chapter TwentyThree

Chapter Twenty-Three  
  
Sydney sat on the edge of the luxurious double bed, trying not to think about how empty it would be when she went to bed later that night. Her bags were still at the entryway where the bellhop had left them and she didn't have the energy to unpack them. The flight to Rome had been uneventful, almost boring had it not been for her frequent trips to the bathroom to relieve her stomach. Her seatmate had finally gotten exasperated with her and switched seats so she could run up and go when she had to. Now, she felt weak and sick and alone. Her father had left with Vaughn, and her mother had left to comfort his mother. And Vaughn.she'd abandoned him.  
  
The thought of it almost made her want to throw up again, but she pushed the thought from her mind. She would see him again-she'd make sure of it. She hadn't spoken to her parents about it, but she was not going to spend the rest of her life running away. Sloane was hunting her and she was not a helpless deer in hunting season. She was what he made her and now she was going to use all the skills she'd learned to hunt him. He would pay for all the suffering he'd caused, not just to her, but to everyone else whose lives he'd touched.  
  
Maybe a bit of that old ruthlessness rubbed off, she thought with grim humor.  
  
Standing, she went to the desk and took out a pad and pen. She knew Rome well in the sense that she knew where to get what she needed. The shadows in the back alleys with their crates full of pirated high-tech equipment and the store owners who led doubles lives as weapons runners would help her, especially when she waved lira in their faces. As usual, money was no object. The expense account her father had given her was an SD-6 account, still active. It was poetic justice that Sloane's money would ultimately destroy him. She made a laundry list of what she needed, things she could fit into a backpack easily.  
  
Her concentration was broken when the phone rang. She stared at it for a second before getting up and answering it with a thick Italian accent.  
  
"Sydney."  
  
She let out a breath. "Dad."  
  
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Let me know where you're going next. And Sydney?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Don't do anything that can get you into more trouble."  
  
Sydney only smirked, but she kept her voice even. "I'll be careful."  
  
The phone clicked in her ear and she went back to her list. Ten minutes later, she was ready to go out into the city when she had to run into the bathroom to relieve herself of what little lunch she'd been able to eat. She took deep breaths when she slumped back against the wall, feeling absolutely wretched. Something was wrong. She couldn't go through with anything if she was sick. Racking her brain for possible illnesses, she suddenly realized she hadn't had her period since all this had began.which meant she'd missed it twice. Face getting even paler than it already was, she pushed herself off the wall and grabbed her purse. Before she would seek out what she needed for Sloane, she had to make a run to the drugstore.  
  
Thirty minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her hands trembling as she stared at the results. Never had she felt more alone, more helpless, and more saddened. She put one hand to her stomach, silent tears streaming down her face as she murmured her apologies to her unborn child.  
  
Their unborn child.  
  
Had it been another life, Vaughn would be at her side, screaming his elation at their gift. He would take her in his arms and they would probably fall into bed. But not this life. In this life, she was going to bring a child into a life that involved running and hiding and being afraid. She couldn't do that. Putting a hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs, she decided then and there that she would give Vaughn's son or daughter a chance at a normal life without secrets.  
  
She didn't know how long she sat in the bathroom, but when she stood to wash her face, her insides felt numb. Sloane would have to wait. She couldn't risk hurting her child should she be in a fight. Hunting Sloane would come later, after the baby was safe. She wanted to find Vaughn, but knew that would not be a wise choice. She needed to lessen the risk as much as possible. Contact with her father would have to remain at a minimum-he couldn't know. No one could. To protect the baby.  
  
Sydney crawled into bed and curled on her side. She couldn't stop the tears from falling, feeling her pillow become wet under her cheek. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a troubled sleep, her only consolation the fact that she wasn't alone anymore.  
  
* * *  
  
Vaughn slumped in the cheap motel armchair, the neon lights from the vacancy sign outside his window bathing his face in its bright pink glow. A half empty bottle of vodka, he'd taken one look at the brandy and felt sick, sat on the table next to him. In his hand, he held an empty paper cup, having just drained it. He looked like hell and felt even worse. Granted, the alcohol, though it did help him for a little while, wasn't improving the situation, but he could not find anything else to do with his time. He was on the run, holed up in a seedy motel in Toronto, and he couldn't risk showing his face outside, not that he would. There was no one to talk to, and he couldn't call anyone he knew, especially the people he wanted to talk to the most.  
  
The paper cup crumpled in the fist that he made. He wondered where Sydney was, breaking his vow of five minutes to not think about her. He hoped that she was suffering as much as he was, but then quickly retracted the thought. He knew that in her highly paranoid way of thinking, she was doing him a favor by abandoning him. That kind of thinking had kept her alive for a long time.but he just wished that she'd put it aside for them. Bitterness filled his mind as he thought of the life he'd left behind, a life that would have been empty without her but at least it would have been a life. Not this running and hiding in complete isolation from the rest of the world. He eyed the bottle of vodka and glanced at the paper bag containing a bottle of gin.he was well on his way to becoming an alcoholic. With black humor, he decided that if the stress of this situation made him forget who he was tomorrow morning, he would welcome another bout with amnesia. As it was, he already remembered too much.  
  
Vaughn tossed the cup into one corner, not caring where it went. He doubted anyone would care. He sure as hell didn't. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows up on his knees and covered his face with his hands. His breathing became ragged as he fought back a wave of anguish, one of many that he'd had to deal with since reading Sydney's letter. He didn't know how she'd managed to get so far under his skin, but he doubted he would ever be able to get over her.  
  
Then, he wondered why he should even try. He had an unlimited amount of money to withdraw from.he had a suitcase full of passports and other identification that would make traveling easy. Straightening and with a sharp look in his bleary eyes, he sat back and considered the possibilities.  
  
Before he could change his mind and capitulate to the need for the numbness alcohol gave him, Vaughn stood, took the vodka in one hand and the gin in the other. He went to the grungy bathroom and poured out both contents at the same time, fighting the urge to right the bottles and save what little was left. When they were empty, he dumped them in the trash and wiped his hands on his jeans.  
  
Now was not the time to give up, he told himself, sitting on the edge of the lumpy mattress. He would not give up on her. Two days in an alcohol haze was all he was going to allow himself from now on. He would find her and stay with her when he did. Sloane's dogs were already out there on the hunt, but they didn't know her the way he did. He'd found her once before, in the train station before going to Taipei, and though the world was definitely larger than L.A., he had faith that he would be able to find her again. In the short time they'd had together, he'd gotten to know her even better and he would use that knowledge now to seek her out. He needed to. Without her.  
  
Yanking his shirt over his head, Vaughn laid back in the bed, trying not to think about the last time the sheets were washed and fell into a restless slumber. The sun streaming through the window woke him up after what felt like only a few minutes of sleep, but one look at the alarm clock told him he'd gotten a good ten hours. With a groan, he rolled out of bed and rubbed his eyes. He shuffled into the shower and stood under the slow trickle to wake himself up. The shower was exactly what he needed and he felt his mind become clear. He finished gathering his things and got ready to leave before he realized he had no idea where he was going to go.  
  
Jaw set stubbornly, he made his way down to the lobby and out onto the street. It took a few minutes to flag down a cab due to his shoddy surroundings, but when he finally did, he told the driver to head for the airport. Where he was going, he didn't know, but he'd figure it out once he was there.  
  
* * * 


End file.
